Emotional Tethers
by Icepoppy
Summary: When Stiles is met with a family crisis, he and Lydia have to work together to try and figure things out. But will they solve the puzzle in time? When new villains turn up in Beacon Hills and strange problems arise, how will the pack cope? Set after at the beginning of Season Five (based on my reaction from the trailers)
1. The Clutch

**A/N: Welcome to my new FanFic! Thought I'd try a Teen Wolf one this time, and I just had to go with my two favourite characters for the first chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it, and let me know what you think of it, and where you'd like to see the story go in the reviews section. Stay Classy, Icepoppy**

Stiles had never really put much thought into driving. It always just came naturally to him, and he couldn't understand why people found it so difficult. His Jeep had a gearstick, whereas most of his friends drove automatics. Stiles had been delighted when Lydia had asked him to teach her how to drive stick, but now he was deeply regretting accepting. "Lydi- Lyds, would you just- it's not that hard- just- just put your foot on the clutch!" He instantly regretted raising his voice, and winced when she turned her stony gaze on him.

"I am _trying_ , Stiles. It's just taking some getting used to." She spoke curtly, turning her head sharply forwards once she was finished speaking. The view out of the windscreen was mundane. They had stopped in a parking lot so that they could practice, and all she could see was the concrete ground leading towards an old chain fence and empty ground beyond that. Gritting her teeth she moved her hand back to the gearstick. "I'm trying reverse again." And with that she shoved the car into gear, and took her foot off of the clutch. The Jeep lurched forwards before stalling with a small puff of smoke from the rear.

"No, no, no, no. Not my Jeep." Stiles smacked the dashboard in frustration, before thumping his head back against the seat. He sighed loudly before rubbing his eyes and turning to look at Lydia. Shock danced across his features when he saw that she was nearly crying. Biting her lip and trying to hold back tears, she looked away. "Lydia, I'm sorry. Don't cry. Please?"

She sniffed loudly, laughing bitterly, "I thought you said I looked beautiful when I cry?"

"Wait you remember that?"

"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot Stiles. Except when it comes to gear sticks apparently." She nudged the stick half heartedly, resting her hand on the shiny surface.

"You do look beautiful when you cry. I just don't want to be the reason that your sad."

"I broke your Jeep Stiles! And now your annoyed with me, and I just hate the fact that I can't figure this out!"

Stiles retreated slightly at the outburst, sliding backwards in his seat. Gulping, he attempted to calm her down. "Look, Lydia, I'm sure the Jeep isn't broken, you probably just cleaned out the engine. And you're not doing that badly. All you did wrong was you put the car in 5th rather than reverse. It's an easy mistake, they're right next to each other. Look." Holding his breath he put his hand on top of hers and guided the stick into reverse instead of 5th. He spared a glance up at her to see her reaction, but she was just staring at their hands.

"Oh." It was a quite remark, almost to herself as much as him.

He smiled at her, speaking perkily, "See? Told you it was simple!" He squeezed her hand before letting go and looking out the window. He didn't notice that she was still staring at the gear stick.

Her next sentence was barely audible, but when he heard it, Stile's heart leaped in his chest. "Stiles," she didn't even look at him, just kept staring at her hand, "Stiles, hold my hand again."

"Uh, why?"

"Just do it!" She snapped at him and he quickly complied. "Can you hear that?" Her eyes flicked up to look at him and she saw the panic in her expression.

"What? No. Lydia is this some weird Banshee thing?"

She gulped, looking at him shakily, "You're telling me you can't hear your dad talking right now?"

His heart lurched, but this time in a far more unpleasant manner. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. His voice sounded croaky and strained as he spoke, "Lydia. Why can you hear my dad? I thought you only hear voices when someone's- when- when someone's-." Realisation struck him with a sickening blow, and he felt the world spinning around him. Trying desperately to gather his thoughts he looked at her through dizzy eyes. "Where is he Lydia? We can still get to him in time."

"I don't know. I can't hear." She was still shaking and her voice was thin and wavering.

"Come _on_ Lydia, try!"

"I AM trying Stiles! This isn't as easy as it looks alright!"

He blinked, biting his tongue before he could lash out in his frustration. He would only regret it later. Looking around desperately, he tried to think of how to help her. An idea stuck him, but he wasn't sure how she would react. Gently he took her other hand, so that he was holding one in each of his, and spoke to her as calmly as he could. "Does this make it any clearer?"

She screwed up her face, closing her eyes in concentration, before gasping and looking at him, "Yes. I don't know why but it does."

" _Okay..._ well can you hear them properly now?"

She looked as though she were deep in thought, but then she growled in frustration. "No! It's like I'm listening through a closed door or something. I just can't make it out"

"Right, so if contact helps, maybe we should hug?"

She snapped up to look at him, speaking sharply, "What?"

Backpedalling, Stiles tried to explain, "You said things got louder when I held both of your hands, so maybe it would be even clearer if we were, y'know-" he gestured awkwardly with his hand, whipping his head back and forth, "-hugging. Platonically, of course."

"Oh, right." She didn't give him any warning; she simply grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him in for a tight hug. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience for Stiles; the hand break was digging into his ribs uncomfortably. However, this was more important. For a moment, he sat in silence, listening to her breathing, and feeling the beat of her heart against his chest. After what seemed like an age, but also not nearly long enough, she pulled back. The motion was slow and when her face came into view, she looked terrified.

"Lydia, what is it? Where's my dad?" Stiles was panicking, struggling to stop a gasping sob from escaping his chest.

"I don't know where he is, but it isn't good. Someone, someone- he's been shot Stiles. He isn't dead. But he's in trouble, but it's like they won't let me see where he is."


	2. The Pack

Stiles blinked to try and clear the liquid forming in his eyes. He didn't want to cry in front of anyone, especially Lydia. "Well- well what are we gonna-" he stopped, his voice cracking under the emotional strain. He turned his head away from her and stared out the side window. Absent-mindedly he was biting the nails on his right hand, panic causing his left to twitch where it sat on the seat. Lydia reached out and took his free hand, spurring a calming shiver to run down his spine. Closing his eyes he sighed, resting his head on the glass window. "Lydia, I can't lose him. Not him too. What am I gonna do without him?" His voice faded till it was barely a whisper.

Lydia was staring at him, squeezing his hand gently. "Stiles. He isn't dead yet." Gently she grabbed his shoulder and turned him to look at her. His eyes were red and glistening, and as she spoke a single tear escaped and ran down his cheek. Lifting a hand to his face she wiped away the tear and held his face reassuringly. "I haven't screamed yet. We still have time. I promise you Stiles. I am going to do everything I can to find him. But I can't do it without you, so don't you dare give up alright?" His brow furrowed before he blinked, wiping his eyes and nodding in agreement. "Good. Now call Scott while I drive us to the Police Station."

"Are you sure you're ok to drive?"

She raised a mischievous eyebrow at him, turning on the engine as she did so. "I think I can handle it, I had a pretty good teacher." And with that she put the Jeep in first and slowly raised her foot off the clutch. At first they lurched forwards, but then they were off, driving reasonably smoothly. She laughed in excitement, "I did it! Stiles we did it! Now call Scott."

Laughing in spite of himself, Stiles nodded, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. Quickly he dialled his best friend's number, and listened as it rang. After two rings, Scott picked up. "Hey buddy, what's up?"

"Scott? Lydia had a sense about my dad. She thinks he's been shot. I need you to get the rest of the pack and meet us at the station alright?"

"Oh god. Yup, okay, Kira's here with me, I'll get Liam and Malia on the way over. See you soon."

"Bye." Stiles hung up before Scott could say anything else, not wanting to have to discuss the matter further. Instead he looked at Lydia and smiled weakly at the sight of her driving so well with the gear stick. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it's starting to look like you knew how to drive shift already."

"Don't be ridiculous Stiles. This is just an emergency; I guess instinct just sort of kicked in."

"Well however it happened you are doing a good job. Take a left up here." He pointed at the road ahead and she followed his instructions, navigating their way back into town. They drove in silence for a few moments, until Stiles began to itch with curiosity. "So I know you couldn't tell where he was, but did you hear what he was saying? Or who he was talking to?"

Lydia sighed, trying to think back to when she heard the voices. "He sounded angry, like he was yelling at someone. And then there was this other voice, it wasn't very clear, but I think it was a man. They had an argument and then there was a loud bang. A girl screamed, the noise echoed so they must have been somewhere big." She spared a glance in his direction, and was relieved to see that he wasn't panicking.

"A girl, a man, and echoes. Interesting. Okay, so that rules out a few places that they might be. If you hear anything else you have to tell me right away, got it?"

"Yes Stiles I get it! Do you really think if I found anything else out that I would keep it to myself?" She pulled into the station and turned off the Jeep.

"No, sorry. I'm just not thinking properly, sorry."

"It's fine, now come on. I can see Scott waiting at the door." She tossed him the keys and climbed out gracefully. Stiles fumbled with the door before leaping out, rushing over to Scott.

"Hey Scott, where's everyone else?"

"Kira and Liam are inside, I couldn't find Malia and she wasn't answering her phone. C'mon let's get inside and you can explain this properly."

Stiles nodded and followed his friend inside. When they reached his dad's office, Kira and Liam were talking to Deputy Parrish, trying to explain what was going on. When he heard the other three enter the room, he called out to them. "Hey can any of you tell me what's actually happening? I'm really confused." He was standing with his arms folded and his brow furrowed, trying his best to get a grip on all the new information being tossed at him. Scott stepped forwards and began to explain:

"Stiles said that Lydia had a feeling about his dad, sorry, about the Sherriff." At that he looked to his best friend, clearly expecting him to elaborate. Stiles shrugged and looked at Lydia:

"Lydia can probably tell you more than I can." She nodded and he smiled appreciatively.

"So it was difficult to make everything out, but the short story is that Sherriff Stilinski is in trouble, he's somewhere that echoes, and there were two other people there, a man and a woman. I wish I knew more, but I can't hear them anymore." She moved over to where Stiles was standing and squeezed his arm comfortingly. He glanced down at her, nodding his head in thanks before looking to Parrish.

"So, what are we gonna do?"

The young Deputy thought for a moment before speaking up, "I'll try contact him on his radio, his cruisers gone so I can put an APB out on that. The faster we find it the faster we find him right? Shouldn't be too hard, they all have trackers built in. Until then, I guess all we can do is wait." He looked around the group for their approval, and they all agreed. With that, he left the room, speaking into his shoulder radio as he did so.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Liam began to speak, "You know, waiting isn't all we can do."

Kira turned to him and looked highly confused, "What do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes before smiling broadly, "I think you guys are forgetting a pretty major advantage that we have." When everyone stared blankly at him, he groaned and explained further. "We have two werewolves in this room, and the whole place reeks of the Sherriff. While they try to find the cruiser we can be out tracking his scent."

Scott blinked and looked at Stiles who seemed just as shocked as he did. Stiles thought about it for a second, "That's... actually a really good idea. Good job Liam." They sat in unproductive silence for a further minute before Lydia growled in frustration and took charge.

"You lot are the worst at organising yourselves. Right, Scott, you stay with Parrish and help him track down the cruiser. Liam and Kira, you two work together. Liam try tracking his scent, Kira, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, and keep an eye out for clues as to where the Sherriff might be. Me and Stiles will go back to his house and try to make sense of all this. Okay?" She looked around, daring anyone to question her. No one did, so she nodded happily. Grabbing Stiles by the hand, she led him out of the Station and towards the Jeep, leaving everyone else to do their own jobs. Stiles was grateful, but something was nagging at his brain, bouncing around till he couldn't contain it anymore:

"Hey Lyds, why didn't you go with Parrish and send Scott to look after me? I mean you and Parrish worked really well together over the summer. You make a good team."

She kept walking, staring straight ahead, and when she spoke it was in a matter of fact tone. "We do. But you and I make a better one." She stopped, turning to face him. "Plus, Parrish is still getting the hang of his powers, so he'll need someone to look out for him if things go South. Who's going to be able to do that better, me or Scott? And anyway, they aren't solving, their tracking. You and I are going back to your detective board to figure this out. Just like we always do. We're the ones who always figure it out, remember?"

He couldn't help letting a small chuckle escape his lips as he smiled at her. She was right of course, she always was. "Thanks Lydia. Seriously, thank you."

She smiled back at him, and for a moment looked as though she wanted to say something more, but then she thought better of it and turned away, opening the driver's door to the Jeep.

"You planning on driving me everywhere now?" He laughed as he teased her.

"If I have to." She climbed in and shut the door, leaving him no choice but to get in the passenger side. "Why, don't you trust me?"

He buckled his seatbelt and held onto the door handle tightly, "I have every confidence in your driving ability." He glanced over at her and was taken aback to see her giggling. "What?"

"I don't have to have werewolf senses to be able to tell that that was a huge lie."

He quickly let go of the handle and tried to look at ease, "Don't know what you're talking about Lydia. Let's go, you wanna take a left when you leave the station and then-"

She cut him off, "Stiles, I know the way to your house."

"You do?"

She looked at him briefly, a small smile on her lips, "Of course I do."

 **A/N:**

 **Hope you enjoyed chapter two! Let me know what you think, and thanks to everyone who has followed or favourited! Makes my day :D I'll try not to be too long with the next update, I have a plan for where this is gonna go now, so... Yay! See you in the next one, Stay Classy, Icepoppy**


	3. The Cruiser

**A/N: Chapter three, for your enjoyment! Let me know what you think, and I'm glad you guys are enjoying it. See you in the next one, Stay Classy, Icepoppy**

Stiles sat on his bed tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for Scott to call him. He and Lydia had spent the last hour and a half taping everything to his investigation board, and making all the connections they could. At first she had seemed sceptical of his colour coding system, but by the end of the session she was probably more proficient than he was at it. They had reached a dead end, there were no ties left to be marked, and they weren't any closer to figuring out where the Sherriff might be. They had created a list of possible locations, but it was painfully long and really no help until they narrowed it down. This was where Scott came in. He and Parrish had finally managed to locate the signal from the cruiser, and about half an hour ago had set out to try and find it. Of course there was no guarantee that the Sherriff would be with the car, or that the tracker was even still in the car, but it would be some sort of lead. Growling in frustration Stiles flopped back onto his chequered bed spread, rubbing his face wearily.

Hearing his frustration, Lydia spun slowly around in the computer chair, turning away from the desk to look at him. It made her smile that despite his frustration and exhaustion, his leg was still twitching, a reminder of his usual hyperactive self. Tucking her pencil behind her ear she stood up. Carefully she edged her way around the board, trying not to disturb anything, before standing in front of her friend. "Stiles, don't worry. We're going to find him. I'm sure Scott will call any second now."

"Yeah I guess. Something else has been bothering me though."

"What?" Lydia flopped down next to him and they stared at the ceiling together.

"Why wouldn't my dad tell anyone where he was going? Surely he should have told someone at the station."

"That's a good point. The only reason I can think of would be that it was something the people at the station wouldn't understand."

"Something supernatural, yeah." Stiles nodded his head quickly, eyes still set on the ceiling. He sighed before sitting up, and Lydia followed suit. "There's another thing too though. Where the hell is Malia?"

Lydia thought for a moment, raising her eyebrows as she did so, "Maybe... maybe she's out doing something with her dad?"

"Yeah maybe." Stiles wrung his hands and stared at the board again, trying desperately to make a connection. Lydia followed his gaze and stood up, walking towards the board and grabbing his white marker. Silently she wrote one word in the centre of the maze of string, _SUPERNATURAL?_ She put the cap on the marker and turned back to Stiles, a comforting smile on her face. Before she could speak however, his phone began to buzz in his pocket. The shock sent him jumping upwards, fumbling with his hands, battling to get the device out of his jeans. Finally, he had a hold of his phone and lifted it too his ear. "Scott? Scott did you find it?"

To his surprise it was Deputy Parrish that replied, "Hi Stiles, yeah we found it. Scott's just – uh - retrieving it?" There was a loud crash in the background.

"Retrieving it? From where?" Stiles cursed the fact that he couldn't see what was happening.

"Well, we found the tracker on the outskirts of the forest. From there, Scott tracked the scent to where the Hale house used to be."

"What? Why would the car be there? That's just a construction site now."

"Yeah I know that Stiles. Anyway, it looks like the car crashed into one of the cranes, which dropped rubble on the car, which sorta got a bit crumpled."

"CRUMPLED?! What the hell! Is my dad- is he-"

"No, he isn't here Stiles, he made it out, before or after the crash I'm not sure. Liam picked up on his scent heading North, so he and Kira followed that about ten minutes ago."

Stiles had put him on speaker so that Lydia could jot everything down on the board. There was another loud crash on the other end of the line, followed by panting and Scott shouting to Parrish.

"Is that Stiles? I told you not to call him until I got the car out! Let me talk to him!"

The deputy answered, "Is the car out yet?"

"Yes-" another clatter, "sort of."

"Fine. Stiles Scott's gonna speak to you now." There were muffled noises as the phone was passed between the two, and then Scott's voice shot through the speakers:

"Stiles? Dude I told Parrish not to call you till we knew more. How you holding up?"

Irritated, Stiles swore silently, trying his best not to throw the phone across the room. "I'm fine Scott. Well, what news do you have? Find anything in the car?"

"A few things yeah. Your dad's radio is here, it got pretty smashed up in the crash though. The whole place reeks of stress, confusion, and a little bit of anger too. But listen, there's something really weird. There's another scent here and I don't know why it would be."

"Why? What is it?"

"Stiles, Malia was here too. Same time as the Sherriff."

Stiles dropped the phone and stared blankly into space. His whole world was spinning. Not just his dad but _Malia_ too? It wasn't fair. Two of the most important people in his life and they were _both_ missing? His vision was going hazy, in the background he could hear Scott calling out his name. He barely registered it though, he was struggling to breath, everything was spinning and he couldn't breathe. He staggered backwards, hitting the door before sliding down it till he was sitting gasping on the floor. Looking desperately around he saw Lydia rushing over to him. She called out to the phone, "Scott, we're gonna have to call you back." She hung up the phone and sped towards Stiles, panic etched onto her features.

"Stiles it's okay. You just need to breathe for me Stiles, can you do that?"

He tried to answer but all he could do was gasp desperately.

"Stiles shhh, shh it's alright. Think of happy things, focus on my voice."

He closed his eyes and tried to hear only the soft tones as she spoke. For a moment he thought it had worked, but then a whole new wave of panic overwhelmed him and he gasped for air, waving his arms about for something to hold on to.

Acting quickly, Lydia grabbed his arms and held him securely, providing him with an anchor to hold on to. Gently she guided his arms down to his sides and looked him in the eyes. He was still panicking, and she was running out of ideas. A distant memory surfaced in her mind, they were in the locker room, in almost the exact same position, and she was about to kiss him. Realising what she had to do, she held his face, ready to pull him in for a kiss. However, before she could move, he acted, lurching forwards and connecting their lips. The surprise only lasted for a moment until she melted into the kiss. It was short and gentle, and when he pulled away he had his eyes closed, his breathing back to normal. He opened his eyes, clearing his throat awkwardly, "Sorry, I just, remembered that last time it worked, sorry."

She laughed in relief, "It's okay, that was really smart. Looks like my brains are finally rubbing off on you, huh?"

He joined in her laughter, "You rubbing off on me? Please I'm way smarter than you."

"Keep dreaming Stilinski." She shoved him playfully before standing, offering a helping hand to get up. "Now, let's figure this out, shall we?"

He grabbed her hand and heaved himself upright, adopting a more serious tone as they turned back to the board, "Yes, let's."


	4. The Writing

Standing in front of the investigation board, Stiles rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was currently studying the connections between Malia and his dad. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't think of a reason for them both to be in the car without him knowing about it. Clearly he was missing something, but what it was he had no idea. Lydia stood next to him, squinting at Malia's photo. They had already connected her with the supernatural, and added the desert wolf to the board just in case. The only connection between her and the Sherriff was Stiles, and of course the car accident. Another line of string led off to the details of that incident. Stiles had insisted they included the Eichenhouse in their list of locations, as he and Malia had both spent time there, and it was famously coined the Echo House. Lydia had seemed sceptical, but wrote it up anyway. They had spread a map out on the floor as well, marking out the locations of important events: the cruiser crash, Malia's crash, where the tracker was found, Eichenhouse, a few old warehouses that were on their list, the station, the hospital, the house.

Stiles knelt down to study the map further, tracing possible routes with his finger. They must have walked from the crash because there were no other tire tracks. That limited the places they could have gotten to about a five mile radius given the time constraints. Liam said they headed North, which ruled out a few locations as well. Even so, there were still at least ten possible locations scattered across the map. Sighing he looked up from the map, glancing at Lydia. She was still staring at Malia's picture. "You need to tell Malia that we kissed. When we find her I mean."

"What? Why? It was a medical emergency!"

"I know that, and she'll understand if you tell her that."

"She's more likely to rip my throat out Lydia!"

"Maybe. But think about it, would you rather she found out now from you, or that it somehow gets back to her if one of us carelessly mentions it, and then not only did you kiss me, but you lied to her about it. She would _definitely_ rip your throat out if that happened. It's not like it meant anything, she'll realise that, it's just best if she knows."

He rubbed the back of his head, "You have a point there. Alright, but first we need to find her, then I can tell her what happened."

"Deal. Right, so I was thinking, and isn't there another link between Malia and the forest?"

"Yeah, the coyote den."

"Do you remember where it was on the map?"

He looked down at the paper at his feet, "Yeah, it was right, here." He pointed at a spot North of the crash site. "You don't think? I'm pretty sure it wasn't big enough to echo."

"Yeah, but we should add it to the board anyway." With that, Lydia picked up the white marker and went to write on the board. However, as soon as the marker tip touched the screen, whispers erupted in her head. Gasping in shock she took a step backwards.

Stiles looked up and saw her reaction. Jumping to his feet he stood anxiously beside her, "Did you hear something? What was it? Are you alright?"

She told him to be quiet, swatting him away before moving back towards the board. Gingerly she placed the marker back down beside Malia's portrait. The voices returned to her head and she strained to listen to them. A man was speaking, his voice low, almost mechanic, "Where is the other one?"

A new voice appeared, sultry and feminine, "Indisposed. He is of no use. He's human."

The mechanic voice responded, "Will he cause trouble?"

"No, and neither will the girl. Isn't that right Malia?"

"So long as you don't hurt me or Stiles, I won't cause any trouble at all." Her voice was matter of fact and strangely calm. Before Lydia could listen in to any more of the conversation, and image appeared right in front of her vision. A man in a strange metal suit was standing before her. She wanted to jump back in shock but she was frozen. He spoke up:

"That's enough of you Banshee. Run back to Stiles." With that, he reached out a mechanic arm and shoved her backwards. Her eyes flashed open and she fell back onto Stiles, and they both tumbled on to his bed.

"What? Lydia what is it, what happened? Is my dad ok?"

She was shaking, her lip quivering as she tried to comprehend what had just happened, "He- he knew. The man knew I was listening. How did he know?" Her voice was barely a whisper, and she clung to Stiles for comfort.

"How did he know? Did he hurt you?" Stiles pulled her closer to him, trying his best to calm her down.

"No, he just, told me to leave, and, sort of shoved me out of the vision."

"How does that work? What did he look like?"

"He was in a metal suit, completely metal. It makes sense, because the man's voice I heard earlier was almost mechanical."

"Huh, so is he 'The Dread Doctor'?"

She looked at him as though he were crazy, "What?" Instead of answering, he pointed to the investigation board, which was now full with her handwriting. Over and over again, filling every available space were the names 'Desert Wolf' and 'Dread Doctor'. "Did I write that?"

Stiles stood up, gesturing between himself, the board and Lydia, "Yeah, well, it wasn't me so..."

"That must have been the woman's voice, the Desert Wolf. Malia was there too. She sounded fine. Really calm actually, it was weird. The Desert wolf clearly knew who she was, so they must have spoken before. The man said that your dad was- was indisposed."

Stiles whipped around, grabbing her shoulders, "Indisposed! Well what does that mean?"

She struggled free, "I don't know Stiles! He isn't dead, I know that." She turned her back to him, staring out the window with a frown on her face.

Realising he had hurt her feelings, Stiles was suddenly riddled with guilt. She had only been trying to help after all. Gingerly he took a step forwards, reaching out to touch her arm. "Lydia, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted. I know that you're doing your best, and I appreciate it, I really do." As he spoke he gently turned her around to face him. "Lydia, you are the smartest person I know. Together we're gonna figure this out, I know it." She smiled weakly at him, squeezing his hand to let him know he was forgiven.

"There's something else. The woman said that your dad wasn't of use, because he was human. Like they only wanted supernatural's for whatever they're up to. And Malia seemed _willing_ to go along with it. I just don't understand."

"What do you mean willing? Why wouldn't Malia have told me about this anyway?"

"I don't know, maybe she wanted to keep meeting her mother for the first time to herself? Anyway, she said so long as they didn't hurt her, or you, that she wouldn't cause them any trouble." She moved to the board and began to erase all of her scribbles. She was about half way across the board when Stiles grabbed her hand to stop her. "Stiles, what-"

"Look." He pointed at the photo of the coyote den. She had circled it four or five times while in her trance. "It must be important. Why else would you circle it? I'm going to go check it out. Stay here in case anyone calls, I won't get much signal out in the woods." With that he grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the door before she could protest. Staring out the window as he jumped into the jeep and drove off, she felt the ominous banshee feeling growing.

Whispering to herself, "Be careful, Stiles" she turned back to the board and tried to make sense of everything.


	5. The Tether

Stiles drummed his fingers on the wheel of the Jeep as he drove, urging the thing to move faster. "C'mon now you can do better than that! Hurry up!" He pressed down on the accelerator and the Jeep rattled in protest. Keeping his foot steadfast on the pedal, he eventually convinced the car to go minimally faster. Rounding a tight corner in the road, he tried to think why his girlfriend wouldn't tell him she was meeting her mother. And on top of that, why would she bring his _dad_ instead. He scoffed, imagining that she had been on her way out when his dad had caught her. The Sherriff had probably insisted on escorting her. Just because he was beginning to believe in the supernatural, didn't mean he trusted it, especially with the life of Stiles's girlfriend. The thought brought a reluctant smile to his face, and he had to force himself to focus as he pulled over and jumped out of the car.

He started off into the woods at a run, which quickly degraded into a mediocre stumbling walk. His physical fitness had not improved much over the years. Clutching the map tightly in his hand, he powered on. The map was there more as a comfort than a requirement, he had memorised the route he would need to take before he left Lydia. A twinge of guilt appeared in his chest, he felt bad for abandoning her. But this was important. Finally, the sickeningly familiar smell of the coyote den reached his nose. The scent brought back memories of a very dark time, and he couldn't help but reach down and scratch his ankle, the ghost of a steel jaw trap itching at his skin. Edging closer to the den, he called out, "Malia? Hey Malia are you in- woah!" He had slipped on some loose leaves and was sent sprawling onto the cave floor. Groaning, he pushed himself up, blinking to get the dust out of his eyes. A quick glance around told him that no one was here. Still, he refused to be discouraged, so he set about scanning the area for clues. The first thing he noticed were scuffs in the dust near the cave wall. There were also scratches on the rock. Frowning, Stiles crouched down to get a closer look. Something shiny caught his eye, and he shifted a small rock to reveal a silver ring. He wasn't sure whether to feel comforted or terrified. It was Malia's ring that she wore most days. He had given it to her as a 'well done on finishing summer school without killing anyone' gift.

He sniffed, shoving it into his pocket as he left the den. It seemed obvious to him that she had been there, and that she had struggled against whoever had initially confronted her. That only served to confuse him more than he already was, as if what Lydia said was true, she now felt comfortable in the presence of her captors. Scrabbling out of the den, he made his way back to his Jeep. As he opened the door, he noticed a small light blinking on his phone, which he had left on the passenger seat. Hoping for good news, he grabbed it and stared at the screen. To his surprise, he had a voicemail waiting for him. He dialled up the number and listened. When he heart Malia's voice, his heart lurched.

 _Stiles? Why don't you ever answer your phone?! I'm just calling to let you know I'm okay. I wouldn't suggest trying to find me though, because the people I'm with aren't very welcoming to strangers. I learnt that with your dad. Before you freak out, he isn't dead. He caught me leaving to meet my mother in the woods. He refused to let me go without his company, so we went in the cruiser. She attacked the car and we managed to get out before it crashed. Somehow we ended up hiding in my old den, and this weird mechanical man cornered me. They took us to this weird building. Your dad- the Sherriff was yelling at them, trying to get the man to let us go. My mother gave me a choice. Either the dread doctor would shoot him or me, because they only needed one. It was instinct Stiles. My brain just flipped to coyote mode and I did what I had to, to survive. I told them to shoot him. And they did. I haven't seen him since, but they say he isn't dead. But now I'm safe, because they won't kill us both. I'm helping my mother, we're working with these doctor people. She says it's important, that it will change the supernatural world for the better. Anyway, that's all really. Don't try and find us, cause they'll just shoot you, and I couldn't handle that. See you later._

The phone beeped, signifying the end of the message, and Stiles dropped the phone, feeling sick to his stomach. He was frozen, staring out of the windshield at nothing. She had sounded so _casual_. It had been her decision to shoot his dad, and she didn't even care. He was still processing it all. She didn't sound shocked, or scared, or even remorseful. Just matter of fact. He had thought that she had worked through her coyote instincts, had learned to care for people outside of her and her mate. Maybe he was wrong. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the overwhelming feeling that this was all her fault kept eating away at him. He felt so _betrayed_. Something tapped on his window and he practically jumped out of his skin, flailing around inside the car. Twisting in his seat, he looked out and saw Lydia standing outside his window. She looked heartbroken.

Acting quickly he slid out of the car and stood in front of her, holding her arms gently. "Lydia? I told you to stay at mine, what's the matter?"

She was clearly trying not to cry. "As soon as you left, I started to get this feeling. It was different to the other ones though. Like I was panicking without knowing it?" He nodded his understanding, and she continued, "then my heart lurched, and I drew this ring on the board." She showed him a photo on her phone. It looked exactly like the ring sitting in his pocket. Reaching down he picked it out and showed it to her.

"It's Malia's ring. I found it just now in the den. I swear I almost had a heart attack when I saw it."

"Oh. And then something else happened." She looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. "I heard the voicemail. It was like she had sent it to me. I felt like I was in your head, and as soon as it started I couldn't breathe. I got here as quick as I could. I heard everything and now I just feel- feel-"

"Heartbroken?"

She stared at him, sniffing, "Yeah. But I don't know why. Why would I feel like that?"

He looked from the ring in his hand, to the den, to her shining face. Slowly, the pieces fell into place. "Because, that's how I feel."

"What?"

As everything came together in his head he found himself speaking very quickly, and only hoped Lydia would be able to keep up. "You drew the ring and felt the lurch that I felt the moment I found it. That might be coincidence. Plus you felt the panic I felt in the car. And then you felt the same heartbreak I did when we heard the voicemail. One's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern. Remember what Deaton said when I went into the ice bath. I needed an emotional tether to bring me back. He told you to go with me. Lydia I think we're connected, somehow. Like an-"

"Unspoken connection. That's what you said to me in the hospital one time."

"You were actually listening to me? I thought you were in a call?"

"I was, but I could still hear you. I was just being a- well, being a bitc-"

"It doesn't matter, that wasn't you, not the real you. Anyway, I think that this unspoken connection let's you feel what I feel. That's how you knew I was in Eichenhouse, or at least I thought I was, when I was sleep walking, remember? You knew, that in my head, I was there."

"That... that actually makes sense. We're emotionally tethered. But what does that mean, for us, I mean?"

He stared at her, trying to think of an adequate answer. Eventually he came up blank, answering with, "We'll just have to figure it out later. At the moment, we have a treacherous werecoyote to find."

"Stiles, don't be too hard on her-"

"YOU HEARD THAT VOICEMAIL! You know how guiltless she felt. She didn't even care that my dad was dying!" All of his built up frustration exploded in an outburst of rage. He was panting and staring at her, waiting for her to yell back, or retaliate, or storm off. Anything. He knew he deserved it. Instead, she took his hand, easing him towards her so she could wrap her arms around him. As they embraced a feeling of calm washed over him, and he began to relax. She stretched up to his ear, whispering softly:

"It's going to be alright Stiles. We'll find them. _Both_ of them."

Burying his face in her hair, he muttered "Thank you, my emotional tether." He said the last part with exaggerated admiration and a hint of playful sarcasm. Smiling at the return of the old Stiles, she shoved him away from her playfully, before climbing into the driver's seat of the Jeep. He stared incredulously at her. "Seriously?"

"Get used to it Stilinski. I'm not letting you drive anywhere with the state you're in at the moment." She winked at him and he gave her a dramatic eye roll before climbing into the other side of the Jeep.

 **A/N: Here's the next chapter. I'd just like to say I'm totally open to suggestions for the story, and I'll try to work them in somehow :) This chapter includes an idea from TvRomances which I think fits in really nicely, and I hadn't thought of including, but I think it adds a lot to the story. The idea of Stiles and Lydia realising that they have a strong connection was from TvRomances, and I just edited and elaborated slightly so that it fit nicely into the chapter I was working on. I'll try update more often, Stay Classy, Icepoppy**


	6. The Sherriff

Lydia had just dropped Stiles back at the Station, and was driving back to his house to grab a few things that would help them explain what happened to the pack. Pulling into his driveway, she looked up at the rear-view mirror to check her reflection. At first glance, she didn't notice the man sprawled on the back seat. However, he slowly came into focus and she froze. How could he have been there all this time, without her noticing? Turning ever so slowly in her seat, she looked at the man. He was shrouded in shadows, but she could still make out the Sherriff badge gleaming on his chest. "Sherriff?!" She sprung into action, unbuckling her seat belt and throwing open the door of the Jeep. As she stepped out, she was shocked to find herself in a new location. The Jeep was gone, and instead she was in a dark, musty room. The only source of light was a crack in the ceiling, from which water dripped laboriously. Turning slowly on the spot, she found who she was looking for.

The Sherriff was propped up against the wall, hands clutching a point on his stomach. His face was ghostly pale, and his clothes worryingly red. His breaths were ragged, hitching before he could get a proper lung-full. She was just about to approach him when he spoke up. "Oh God I must be going crazy. Lydia?" He was squinting at her through bleary eyes.

Now she was finding it hard to breathe. "You- you can see me?" She took a tentative step forwards.

"Sort of-" he tried to sit up straighter and gasped in pain, "You're sort of flickering, I can hear you though. How- aw crap."

"What is it?"

"Is this some sort of Banshee thing?" His words were spaced out between heavy pants.

Looking at the man before her, she realised what he was thinking. The fact that they were having this conversation couldn't bode well for him. "I- I think so. But, we have everyone looking for you, this doesn't mean anything. I'm sure that-"

"Lydia." He cut her off, sounding strangely at ease. His calmness acted as a slight comfort to her. "Lydia, how many times have you been wrong about this sort of thing? Look, it's alright. Maybe we can figure this out in time, but I don't have much of that left," he looked down at his wound, "so we're gonna have to hurry."

"Alright," she was doing her best not to cry. She had no idea how brave the Sherriff was, he must be who Stiles got it from. "Okay, so do you have any idea where we are?"

He strained himself to look around, swinging a heavy head left and right, before settling his eyes back on her. "Honestly, I have no idea. There's a pretty major crack in the ceiling over there, so it must be abandoned. Then there's that smell, I can't place it."

Lydia took a deep breath in, only now noticing the odour. Coughing slightly she answered, "It smells like mould. Plus there's that water over there, we must be somewhere damp."

"Lydia it's Beacon Hills, everywhere is damp." Desperately trying to help, Lydia began pacing the room, looking for any clue as to where he was. The Sherriff watched her for a moment before speaking up. "Lydia would you stand still, it's exhausting just watching you. Look I know you want to help, but this is pointless. I have something much more important that I need you to do."

She spun to face him, walking over and crouching down beside him. "What? What is it? Tell me what to do Sherriff."

"I need you to tell Stiles something."

Some force took a vice like grip on her heart, and her eyes began to water profusely. "O-okay."

"I need you to tell him, this isn't his fault. None of any of this is his fault. Not me, not his mother. Would you tell him I love him? He needs to know that, I should have told him more often but-" another spasm of pain overcame him and he fell silent.

"Sherriff? Sherriff?! NO. NO I WONT TELL HIM. You'll just have to stay alive long enough to tell him yourself. So WAKE UP! C'mon Stilinski, stay awake. What else, what else are you gonna say to Stiles when we find you?"

The man groaned, opening his eyes, "That his friend is almost more annoying than he is. And that he should seriously reconsider his relationship with Malia." He chuckled and Lydia laughed in relief. The blissful moment was cut short however, as a tall, ominous figure appeared behind her. The Sherriff tried to warn her, and seeing his change in expression she whipped around. Now she was face to face with the creature. It wore a metal mask, with mesh covered slits that she assumed were to let him breathe. Feeling her courage building up inside her, she stood her ground.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

"We are the Dread Doctors. And you are trespassing, _again._ "

"Let the Sherriff go." The doctor was edging closer and she found he voice wavering slightly in fear.

"Didn't I warn you to stay where you belong, Banshee? No second chances."

Watching as the doctor reached towards Lydia, the Sherriff gathered what little strength he had left and grabbed her jacket. Pulling back hard he brought her crashing towards the ground, yelling at her to go while she could. The surprise of her fall had caused her to screw her eyes shut. When she opened them, she found herself sitting in Stiles's driveway, leaning against the side of his jeep. Overwhelmed, she began to openly sob, no longer caring who saw her cry. When a figure appeared in front of her and called out her name, she was relieved. Grabbing the persons offered hand and pulling herself up she pressed herself against his chest. "Oh Stiles!" She was still sobbing.

The person spoke up, "Uhhh nope. I'm Scott, remember?" She jumped back, instantly embarrassed at her mistake. Hastily she wiped her eyes, trying her best to salvage her ruined makeup. "Lydia? What happened? Stiles called and said you hadn't come back, asked me to look for you."

Sniffing loudly, she brushed off her skirt. The weight of what she had just seen was still weighing heavily on her shoulders, and she wondered whether or not to tell Scott. Looking at him as he waited patiently, she realised that he was probably actually the _best_ person to tell. "Scott? I had another Banshee moment, but this one was stronger. I was with the Sherriff and he could see me."

"Really? That's great! Right?" She remained silent and waited for him to figure it out. "Oh."

"Yeah. But, I think I have some ideas that might narrow down where he is. We should go tell Stiles right now, I just need to grab a few things from the house."

"Lydia, wait." Scott grabbed her arm as she turned to go. Looking at him in confusion, she waited for him to explain himself. "Maybe, maybe we shouldn't tell Stiles about this. Not straight away anyways."

"What? Why not? He needs to know what's going on. It's his _dad_ Scott."

"Yeah, I know that. But it's Stiles. Is this the sort of information that's going to make him more motivated to find him, or the sort of information that will make him break down. I don't know how much more bad news he can take. He's only human."

She thought for a moment, seriously considering what her friend was suggesting. "You're right, he is human. But he's not _just_ a human, he's Stiles. He can handle this, and he _needs_ to know." Thinking back to their connection, she wondered aloud, "He might know already."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. C'mon." She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

Meanwhile, Stiles was sitting at his dad's desk, looking at the room around him. The desk was a mess as usual, papers scattered everywhere. Amidst the chaos sat a framed family photo. It was from years ago, back when his mother was still alive. Stiles smiled sadly, it was one of his favourite memories. They had gone on an impromptu picnic, calling up the McCall's and heading to the nature park. It had been a really hot day, so they all got ice creams. The photo had been taken by Melissa the moment Stiles and Claudia had decided to shove their cones into the Sherriff's face. All three of them were laughing, even if his dad looked super surprised. Smiling, he put the photo down and turned to the computer.

Without a second thought he logged in, using the password he had found in his dad's notebook years ago. The internet browser was open, and Stiles flicked through the windows his dad had been looking at. It was all pretty dull until he came to the last page, which had been bookmarked. Opening it, Stiles felt a surge of pride. It was a website explaining how to play chess. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd tried to teach his dad the game, and had eventually given up. Seeing there that he was still trying to learn, probably so that he could play with Stiles, made his heart swell. There was a game still in progress, and Stiles examined his dad's technique. To his astonishment, the way he had been playing, his dad was set up to win. It made Stiles wonder how much time his dad had spent practising. The temptation to complete the game was strong, but he forced himself not to. "You're gonna have to do that one on your own dad," he muttered, locking the computer as he did so.

Turning around, he looked at the floor behind the desk, and found it covered in a collection of cardboard boxes. Each one was full of old case files. On closer inspection, he saw that the boxes were all labelled differently. _Kanima, kitsune, werewolf, werecoyote, oni, nogitsune, other._ The 'Other' box was nearly overflowing. The thing that was overwhelming Stiles was how hard his dad had clearly been trying to understand his life. Everything in the office hinted towards the fact that the Sherriff was doing his best to learn what was important to Stiles. The realisation caused the hollow feeling to return to his chest, and he sat back in the chair with a resounding thud.

He spun in circles aimlessly for what felt like hours, waiting for his friends to return. Parrish poked his head round the door once, offering him a cup of coffee. Stiles had declined, saying that if he took it, he'd probably never sleep again. Being stationary for so long was killing him, and boredom was pressing in at him from all angles. When his friends finally burst through the door, he jumped up, a hopeful expression on his face. Seeing the way they glanced at each other, clearly trying to figure out what to say to him, his heart turned to lead. It was so heavy, in fact, that it pulled him back towards the chair behind him. He gave in, lowering himself slowly till he was sitting behind the desk. Looking between his friends, he gripped the chair arms, waiting for the bad news.


	7. The Call

For once, Stiles found himself sitting perfectly still. The only movement in his body was the steady rise and fall of his chest. His eyes weren't even moving. They were set on a point in between Lydia and Scott, refusing to move. Lydia had just finished explaining what she had seen, and now Scott was doing his best to be positive. "But this is good Stiles, we're one step closer to finding out where he is! Let's get the list, mark off the places he can't be. We can still do this." Scott moved to stand in front of Stiles, trying to catch his eye. "Stiles?"

The boy in the chair blinked, before sighing heavily. Rubbing his face he focused on Scott, studying his friends encouraging expression. He wanted so badly to be encouraged by Scott's attitude, but there was a nagging voice in the back of his head. _It's pointless._ Stiles told the voice to shut up. _He's given up, Stiles._ He denied the fact to the voice. _He's going to die. What's the point._ To his surprise, Lydia answered him. "How can you say that?" Snapping out of his stupor he turned to look at her.

"What?"

Her face was a dangerous cocktail of rage and heartbreak. "How can you even dream of asking what the point of this is? He's your _father_ Stiles! You should be doing everything you can to save him!" Her sudden outburst of anger had shocked him into action. He jumped up, running around the desk to her side. Moving to touch her arm comfortingly, he suddenly thought better, leaving his arms wavering awkwardly in the air around her.

"Shh, Lyds, Lydia, I didn't mean to say that. I- I- Lyds would you just listen for a sec?"

He was saved from her wrath by a highly confused Scott. "Uhh, guys? Sorry but what's going on? I didn't hear anything. Stiles had his mouths closed. He wasn't speaking."

The pair turned to look at him, asking "What?" in unison.

"Stiles, you never said anything. Lydia, how did you do that? How could you hear what he was thinking?"

Stiles and Lydia turned to look at one another once more. Clearly they were both thinking the same thing. Their connection. She must have been able to pick up on his thoughts because of his heightened emotions, or their close proximity, or something. Stiles was the first to speak up. "Wow."

Lydia blinked, "Yeah." They must have been staring at each other for too long, because Scott coughed awkwardly from the side. Lydia spun to face him, clearing her throat before she spoke. "Right, sorry. Ummm, here, I have the list." She moved to the desk and spread it out flat. The three of them crowded round it, studying it intently. "So the place was abandoned, and damp. Near some sort of lake or river, because there was running water outside."

Stiles frowned, "Okay... but the only bodies of water are in the south of Beacon Hills, that doesn't make any sense."

Scott pointed at a small blue line on the map, "What about this, isn't this a river?"

Nodding, Stiles replied, "Yeah, that's the one where Theo's sister died. But there aren't any abandoned buildings around there that I can see." He looked at Lydia who had been silent the entire time. He was getting a weird vibe off of her. It felt as though he could hear an idea forming in her head. "Lyds? What is it?"

She glanced up at him, biting her lip when she met his gaze. "I think, I think that we were underground. So what if the place is like a bunker, or a basement, and not a building at all."

Scott spoke up, "That does make sense. Liam said he lost the scent after crossing a little river, which is probably this one. The only reason I can think as to why he wouldn't pick it up on the other side, would be because they went along the river, or inside it." Once he had finished his statement he looked between his friends, waiting for their response.

Rubbing his chin, with his other arm folder across his chest, Stiles scrutinised the theory, "So your saying that the just disappeared inside the river, into some sort of secret underground bunker?"

"Well... when you say it like that it sounds stupid, look Stiles, I'm just trying to help." Scott was holding up his hands, trying to keep his friend calm.

Before Stiles could reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket. It caused all three of them to jump. He quickly reached down and pulled it out of his pocket, looking at the caller ID on the screen. "Malia". Stiles looked up at Scott before running out of the room, answering the phone as he did so. "Malia? Malia what the hell is going on?"

He was met with frantic breathing, and a quiet voice. "Stiles? Stiles please don't be mad. I messed up."

"Malia, calm down. Where are you?"

"Stiles, I was wrong about these people, about my mother."

"Would you tell me what's going on?"

"I messed up so bad," she sounded as though she were on the verge of tears, her voice nothing more than a quaking whisper, "these people are insane."

"Well tell me where you are then, and I'll come get you."

"No! You don't get it. Me even calling you is putting you in danger. Oh Stiles please don't hate me."

His heart was growing heavier with each word she said. "Hate you? Why would I hate you? Malia, what did you do?"

There was a deep breath on the other end of the phone. After a moment, her voice returned, stronger than before. "I- I made a deal with the Dread Doctors. They're going to leave you and me, the whole pack out of what they're doing."

It sounded too good to be true. "Well, hold on, what's the catch?"

"Stiles," she was back to whispering, "they want me to kill your dad."

His throat tightened up and he found it difficult to breathe. "No, no deal. We'll just handle them when we get there. Tell me where you are and I'll bring the whole pack. Both of you are getting out alive."

"You don't understand. I've already agreed. And I can't go back on what I said or they'll kill me. Stiles, I have to do it. Please understand."

Now he was shouting, not caring that the officers were staring at him through the windows of the building. "Malia no! Tell me where you are. I'm getting in the Jeep right now. Where the hell are you?!" There was silence on the phone. "MALIA!"

"Alright! Okay, we're in the basement underneath where the Hale house used to be. The entrance is by the bridge over a little river."

"Okay, yeah, I know where that is. I'll be right there. Malia, promise me you won't do anything until I get there."

"Stiles I have to go." She hung up.

He stared at his phone, shouting her name over and over, until he eventually gave up. Wasting no more time, he jumped into the Jeep and started it up. He thought about getting Scott and Lydia, but there was no time. It was like he could feel his dad's life slipping away. Shaking his head, he pulled out onto the road and sped off toward the forest. He was hitting the wheel, begging the old machine to move faster. Beating frantically in his chest, his heart urged him onwards. He had to get there in time. He _would_. He would save his dad and worry about Malia when he got there. That was the plan. Taking steadying breaths, he began to feel slightly more at ease, focusing more on his driving. He was just approaching a particularly tight corner when he heard it. The sound consumed every part of him, echoing in the jeep, in his head, even in his lungs. It filled his entire being and completely disabled him for a few moments.

Lydia's scream.

His eyes were screwed shut and he jerked at the sound, swerving the wheel. The jeep flew off the road, hitting a large boulder before flipping, landing with a crunch on its roof. Stiles hadn't put on his seatbelt in the rush, and was thrown out of the side window. He lay sprawled unconscious face up on the ground, still half inside the car. A trickle of blood ran from his forehead as a fire stared in the debris around him.


	8. The Jeep

Lydia caught her breath after her scream, opening her eyes. She found herself leaning heavily on Scott, who was trying to hold her up and shield his ears at the same time. Hastily, she pushed herself away from him, grabbing her handbag off of the table. Scott looked at her as she moved, concern written on his features. "Hey Lydia, hold on, where are you going?"

She stopped, looking at him hastily, "Something's wrong with Stiles, I can feel it. I need to find him before it's too late." When Scott made to follow her she held out her hand. "I think it would be better if I went alone. You get Kira and Liam and- and let them know that I screamed. We failed Scott. He's gone." Before she could start to cry, she turned from him, rushing out of the room.

"Lydia wait!" Scott chased after her, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to face him. He smiled at her kindly, "If Stiles is in trouble, you need to get there quick. Take my bike, it'll get you there a lot faster than those heels." She forced out a small chuckle, sniffing and wiping her eyes. Giving him a quick hug, she rushed out of the station and jumped onto his motorbike. Fumbling for a few moments with the helmet, she finally got it on and started the ignition. In a matter of seconds she was off, speeding along the road. She had no idea where she was going, she was just following a feeling. It was as though something was pulling her, guiding her towards her friend. She sat for a while on the bike, with nothing but the growl of the motor to keep her company as she rode. Then, ever so slowly, a crackling sound started to grow louder and louder in her ears. Her skin began to feel hot, and she could have sworn she smelt smoke. Trying to stay focussed on the road, she did her best to ignore the strange symptoms.

However, they were persistent, and the crackling was only growing louder. When she blinked, and image flashed across her eyelids. Jeep, fire, Stiles. That was all she needed to see to make her speed up, well over the limit, in an effort to get to him in time. As she was approaching a sharp bend in the road, something told her to stop. She turned off the bike and jumped off, throwing the helmet into the grass. Turning a complete circle she looked for any sign of Stiles. Her feet carried her off the right, towards a small concrete building. Walking along the edge of the wall, her feeling of dread grew stronger, and she could actually see the smoke she had smelt before. Stepping out around the edge of the structure, she was met with a horrific sight. Stiles' beloved blue Jeep was upside down on the concrete, windows shattered with debris everywhere. There was a fire building around the crash, and smoke was billowing around the scene. Worst of all, Stiles lay unconscious in the middle of it all.

"Stiles!" She called out, running towards the scene. "No, no, no! Stiles, wake up!" There was no response. Growling in frustration, she ran her hands through her hair, trying to think of what to do. There was a loud pop as one of the wing mirrors shattered from the heat. At that, instinct took over and she marched towards him, her determination and care for Stiles pushing her forwards.

"Not today Stiles!" She kicked a chunk of metal out of the way.

"The world's already lost one Stilinski today!" She lifted a metal rod off of his arm.

"I'm not letting you go as well!" She grabbed him under the arms and heaved. He was heavier than she expected, and she fell back on her bum, glass cutting into her legs. She only allowed herself a small gasp of pain before getting back to work.

"No Stiles! This is NOT allowed. You don't GET to die. Not today! Come ON!" She heaved again, and this time he slid a little bit out of the wreckage. Encouraged, she tightened her grip on him. "That's right Stilinski, you don't get to bail on me yet! You need me Stiles, and I need you, so get your ass out of that Jeep. Right. NOW!" With one final heave she dragged him out of the window, not stopping till they were at a safe distance.

When they were finally far enough away, she dropped him, collapsing to the ground in an exhausted heap. As she lay there panting, staring at the night sky, she was shocked to hear a groan from her friend. Turning her head to look at him, she watched as he scrunched up his face. His eyes never opened, but his arm reached out, hand grasping for something. Out of instinct, she grabbed it, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand reassuringly. Repositioning herself she inspected his head injury. It wasn't too serious, and with the ambulance now on the way, he should be just fine. Gently, she lifted his head and rested in on her lap, stroking his hair absent mindedly. "I mean it Stiles. You can't leave me. I need you, okay?" She hadn't expected an answer, so she wasn't too worried when no response came.

She looked away from him for a moment to try and spot the ambulance on its way. Still, she didn't miss the words that came filtering out of his mouth. They were quiet, and strained, clearly costing him what little energy he had left. However he still managed to make them perfectly clear. "Thanks, Lydia. You know-" a small cough interrupted his speech, but then he carried on, "-I think I might still be in love with you."

She froze, staring down at his features. Her heart was pounding and her stomach doing a good job of tying itself into an intricate knot. Opening her mouth to speak, she wasn't sure what to say. Somehow, the words found their way out without her permission. "I'm in love with you too." She hadn't even considered the possibility that she might be in love with Stiles, not until she said it. After that, it just seemed to make sense. She loved him, she really did. Struggling to believe how it had taken her so long to realise, she smiled to herself. "I love you, Stiles."

With great effort, he managed to open one eye to look at her. "Good, otherwise this would have been really awkward for me." She laughed in spite of herself, and seeing that he had made her smile, he closed his eye again, a contended grin on his lips. They sat together for a moment, Lydia still cradling Stiles' head, Stiles still holding her hand. The moment was almost peaceful until the blaring of sirens cut through the cold night air.

"Stiles, the ambulance is almost here. Not much longer now. You're gonna be just fine." She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and he squeezed it back. Just as the ambulance pulled up next to them, the fire of the Jeep reached the fuel tank. With a loud bang the vehicle exploded, sending shards of debris flying into the surrounding area. Thinking fast, Lydia threw herself on top of Stiles, shielding him from a few shards of glass which instead sunk their way into her left arm. After pausing to make sure it was safe to approach, two ambulance workers rushed over with a stretcher. Delicately they lifted Stiles onto the gurney before carrying him back to the truck. A third worker came over and guided Lydia over, sitting her down in the back next to Stiles.

The ride to the hospital was quick, and full of bustling ambulance workers trying their best to aid the teenagers. Two of them were sitting in the back, one keeping an eye on Stiles, tending to his head wound, while the other worked on removing the glass from Lydia's arm. It was an older woman, who spoke with a gentle, slightly rasping tone. "That was very brave what you did back there. You saved that boy's life."

"It wasn't brave. It was the right thing to do."

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, "Now now, don't sell yourself short Lydia. You pulled that boy out of a burning car, looked after him, shielded him from an explosion. Why, you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero."

Before the nurse could respond, Stiles spoke up through his oxygen mask, "She's _my_ hero." Everyone in the ambulance broke into laughter, and Lydia was relieved to see that Stiles was still his funny self. He reached out once more and took her hand, holding it firmly as the vehicle shook. The old nurse smiled fondly at the sight.

"You've got yourself quite the girlfriend there young man." As soon as she spoke, the awkwardness in the compartment became smothering. He dropped her hand, and Lydia bit her lip, looking away from him. The nurse, noticing her blunder, hastily tried to salvage the situation. "Just friends? Oh well that's lovely. And I'm sure you're boyfriend will be very worried about you Stiles."

Lydia snorted as Stiles raised his voice indignantly. "Boyfri- I don't have a boyfriend! I have a girlfriend, or at least, I used to. Not really sure what's going on with that right now."

"Oh my, I'm really making a mess of things aren't I?" The nurse was flushed and clearly flustered, and decided to turn away to find some bandages for Lydia's arm. Stiles slid his gaze slowly over to Lydia, curious to see her reaction to the events. She had blushed a bright shade of pink, and was pressing her lips together the way that she often did when she was around Stiles. He felt privileged that he had a look that was specifically assigned to him. He remembered very clearly the first time he saw it, back in the lacrosse game she had come to watch, where he had actually been allowed to play. She had cheered him on, before pressing her lips together shyly as she clapped. Ever since then it had been impossible to forget, and whenever he saw it, it made his heart swell.

She caught him staring, and raised an eyebrow, "What are you looking at Stiles?"

"Just the massive lipstick smear across your face."

"What?!" She whipped out her compact, inspecting her face. When she saw her pristine lipstick, she couldn't help but laugh, giving his hand a playful nudge. "Ha ha. Very funny Stiles." He caught her hand before she could take it away, and wrapped his fingers around hers. She smiled at him, raising his hand to her lips and kissing it gently. "I can't believe I never realised how much I love you."

He grinned, wincing slightly as a male attendant strapped his foot up tightly. "I knew you did. Even if it was gonna take you forever. I knew you couldn't resist the Stiles Stilinski charm."

Laughing she stuck her tongue out at him. "What can I say, that ten year plan of yours must be super effective."

His expression changed to one of mild horror. "You _knew_ about that?!"

"Allison told me about it. Scott accidentally mentioned it to her, made her promise not to say anything. But she told me anyway, just before we went on that ice skating date."

Stiles groaned, "I swear to god, if I don't die, I'm gonna kill Scott."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh don't be so dramatic, you aren't gonna die. I know you won't."

His whole body relaxed. "Oh good. That's reassuring, I was worried, y'know? But if you say I won't, then I won't, not yet anyways." An easy smile formed on his lips, and he closed his eyes. Lydia felt his grip grow slack as his head flopped to the side. One of the attendants spun round in the tight space, and seeing that he had lost consciousness, swore under her breath. Luckily, they had just reached the Memorial Hospital, and they were both rushed out on hospital beds. They carted Lydia off to the minor injuries ward, while Stiles was taken away to the ICU. The last glimpse she got of him was as he was wheeled through a pair of swinging double doors, into a dimly lit corridor. Sighing in a mixture of frustration and relief, she lay back on the bed. She was about to fall asleep when Melissa ran up to her.

"Lydia? Oh my god what happened?"

"Stiles, he was in a car crash. I pulled him out of the wreckage, this is just collateral damage." She laughed, showing off her arm bandages.

Melissa ran a hand through her dark hair, puffing air out through her cheeks. "Oh my god. Where's Stiles?"

"They just took him through to the ICU. Do you think you could go keep an eye on him, keep me updated?"

Melissa smiled sweetly at the young girl, nodding her head, "Of course Lydia. Why don't you call Scott and let him know what's going on. Hopefully you find the Sherriff soon, so he can see Stiles." Lydia bit her lip and remained silent. Seeing the change in the girl's mood, Melissa frowned. "Lydia, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

Tears were forming in Lydia's eyes, and when she tried to blink them away, she only ended up forcing them to run down her cheeks. "I- I- I screamed his name. That's only ever happened once before, when Alison-"

Melissa raised a hand to her mouth, clearly doing her best not to break down in front of Lydia. "Oh god. I can't believe- poor John. Oh no... poor Stiles. I can't believe this is happening." The woman slumped down in a chair and began openly sobbing. Lydia rubbed the woman's shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, and reached for her phone with her free hand. Without speaking she wrote a hasty message to Scott:

 _Meet at Hospital. Stiles in ICU. Bring the pack. Your mom knows._

She hit send before pocketing the phone, urging Scott to get here with everyone else as fast as they could.


	9. The Hospital

Stiles felt trapped in a sort of dream state. One moment he thought he was awake, interacting with a nurse, but the next he was surrounded by darkness, unable to move or speak. It was terrifying. The only thing keeping him sane was Lydia's reassurance that he wasn't going to die. He held on to that like a life line, doing his best not to freak out. _It'll be fine_ he thought _this is just a minor setback. I'll wake up in a few minutes, crack a joke, and we'll all be just fine_. His inner monologue was interrupted by an obnoxious beeping. It started off as a quiet, distant white noise, but quickly grew until it was deafening. The next thing he became aware of was the pain in his foot. At first just an itch, forming into a dull ache before long. He could also hear people moving around him, speaking in hushed whispers. If he really concentrated, he could make out the odd phrase:

"Broken foot, it should heal fairly quickly-" everything turned to white noise before he heard the rest of the prognosis.

The next thing he heard was his friend Scott, talking to someone else in the room. "I can't believe this happened. I should have been there. You could have both died!"

The voice that replied made his heart soar, "Scott, this isn't your fault. We're both going to be just fine. I asked you to stay behind, so if it's anyone's fault its mine, alright?"

Stiles's thoughts were on Lydia. _Is she okay? What happened to her? Is her arm alright?_ Then he remembered their conversation before he had passed out. _Does she remember? Did that even happen?_ His ranting thoughts were interrupted when a soft hand took his. It sent a jolt of fiery energy through his limbs, and he did his best to squeeze her hand. When he felt her hot breath against his ear, tickling the hairs on his neck, his heart stopped altogether. She whispered two words, so quietly he wondered if even Scott would be able to hear. "I remember."

His eyes shot open and he turned his head groggily to look at her. She blinked in surprise before smiling at his disorientated expression. Trying to find the right words, he fumbled for a moment, eventually blurting out, "You do?"

"Of course I do, Stiles." Lydia smiled sweetly at him before leaning down to kiss his forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Then he became aware of the fact that Scott was still in the room. Coughing awkwardly, Stiles looked over to him. Lydia followed his gaze and laughed, "Scott knew before I did Stiles. Did you forget he has werewolf senses?" Stiles looked incredulously at his friend, who simply grinned and winked at him before leaving the room.

Stiles frowned, "Yup. Definitely gonna kill him."

"Maybe let your foot heal up first?" Lydia laughed, sitting down in the chair next to his bed.

Smiling he agreed, and then a thought struck him. "Lydia?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you know where to find me?" He turned his head so he could see her properly, and was surprised to see a dark expression on her face.

"I had a feeling. It happened almost straight after I-" she paused, not sure if he had heard her scream or not.

"After you screamed." He finished for her, squeezing her hand in support. "I heard. I think it's actually how I crashed," seeing the horrified expression on her face he babbled on, doing his best to fix his blunder, "Not that it was your fault, I was probably speeding anyway. Pretty sure a deer ran out- yeah that was probably what happened."

"You are just the worst liar ever." She smiled, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge.

Stiles grinned before his thoughts returned to his dad. His face fell as he tried to comprehend life without him. "What am I gonna do Lyds? He's gone. And the worst part is, I think Malia killed him." He choked on his words, raising his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep his composure. To his surprise, Lydia just nodded.

"I know."

"What? How?"

"Because," she paused, breathing deeply in an attempt to steady herself, "she told me so."

Stiles jolted upright, struggling to get out of his tangle of wires and bed sheets. "She's here!? Where is she? I can't believe she would show up here after what she did!" Lydia took a firm hold of his shoulder and eased him back onto his pillows. Giving in he let himself be calmed down, but kept a stormy expression on his face. "I want to see her."

"Stiles, I don't know-"

"Lydia please. I need to do this now."

Lydia bit her lip, nodding silently before walking out of the room. Sitting alone for a few minutes, Stiles had a chance to think of what he might say. No words seemed good enough. Just as he was having second thoughts, the door cracked open, and Malia shuffled in. The tension in the air was tangible, and she made no effort to smile at him. _At least she isn't pretending nothing happened_. The thought did nothing to calm him down. He tried to speak, but looking at her just brought back all the memories, and no sound came out. After a moment of silent mouthing, he looked away, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Can't you even look at me?" she sounded hurt.

Anger built up inside of him and he managed to make eye contact, "Oh so this is what we're doing now is it? I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?" She flinched at his harsh words, but he didn't care. Now that he had started there was no stopping the flow of rage pouring out of him.

"I just-"

"Just what, huh? Just thought that you could kill my dad, the only family I have left, and waltz in here like nothing happened?"

"Stiles I did it to survive! I did it to save you and the pack."

"HE WAS PART OF THE PACK!" His anger had gotten the better of him, and he lashed out at her. Outside the room he saw a few nurses stare warily at the room.

Malia stood in shock, staring at him for a moment before taking a step forwards. "Stiles, I'm sorry."

He couldn't believe her. "Sorry? You're _sorry_? Oh well in that case by all means, come here, give me a hug, all is forgiven!" He practically spat the sarcasm at her.

"Stiles I can make it up to you." She took another brave step forwards, staring him down.

Shaking his head he laughed, "Oh really? And exactly how much is my dad's _life_ worth, Malia? What are you gonna do, that could possibly negate you murdering my father?"

She was crying now, desperately trying to win him over. Kneeling down beside his bed, she took his hand. "I don't know Stiles, but I'll do _something._ I'll make it up to you and the pack, I promise."

Whipping his hand out of her grip he glared at her. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously quiet, all his frustration from before now channelled into a silent rage which was directed straight at her. "No. No you aren't part of this pack anymore. We don't kill people Malia. You're done. Leave."

She blinked, staring at him in shock. Suddenly her coyote fierceness was back, and her next words tore into him like a blade, " _You_ killed Donovan. Tell that to your precious pack." With that she stood, storming towards the door.

Stiles had frozen, calling out to her, "W-wait! Who told you that? MALIA!" But it was too late, she was gone, and he was left sitting in a stewing pile of fear, confusion, anger, and above all, guilt. Shaking, he lifted his hand so he could bite at his nails. He didn't look up when Scott walked into the room. Didn't even blink when his best friend sat down in the chair beside him, and pulled his hand from his mouth.

"Stiles."

He didn't respond. He was too busy staring into nothing, shaking with the guilt of everything that had happened in the past few months.

"Stiles?" Scott grabbed his shoulder and shook him slightly. With a jolt, Stiles snapped out of his stupor and turned to look at Scott.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Stiles chewed the inside of his cheek, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. Finally he looked up and met his friends gaze, "No Scott, I'm not."

His friend tilted his head slightly, motioning for Stiles to continue. Taking a deep breath, he explained everything. Every single thing that had happened since the start of senior year. He told him about how he had been attacked by Donovan, that he had ended up killing him. He told him about what Dr Valak had said about the Slough and the Nematon and the Dread Doctors, how everything was their fault. He told him about Lydia, and Malia, and everything in between. When he had finished, he took a deep breath, staring at his friend warily. When no reply came, Stiles buried his head in his hands, ashamed of what he had done. When he felt brave enough to look up, Scott had vanished. Looking to the door Stiles was relieved to see Lydia standing there, smiling encouragingly. When he looked past her, he saw Scott barging out of the swinging hospital doors, off to some unknown location.

Lydia moved beside him, perching on the bed and gripping his hand comfortingly. "He'll get over it Stiles. I did."

"Yeah, but you love me." Stiles was muttering, giving Lydia a worried glance as he stared after Scott.

She laughed, "Scott loves you too. Not in the same way, but he does. Your his brother Stiles, a few bad choices can't change that. He'll realise and then he'll come around." He was still staring at the door, so she pulled his head around so he was facing her. She smiled at him, and his eyes flicked down to her lips. The air in between them was bristling with energy, pulling the pair towards each other. Stiles looked up at her eyes once more, searching them for something.

"Do you think, maybe I could-"

"Stiles, just kiss me already." And with that, she pulled him towards her, closing the gap between them and sealing the kiss.

 **A/N:**

 **This is** ** _not_** **the end, there is more to come yet! I hope you've all been enjoying it so far, and I'd just like to thank everyone who's been favouriting, following or leaving reviews, it makes my day! I'll try and not be too long with the next update. Stay Classy, Icepoppy**


	10. The House

The sky was obnoxiously bright, not even having the decency to rain in mourning of everything that had happened. The sunlight was bursting through the sparse clouds, illuminating the whole street. Sniffing, Stiles flicked his hood up, refusing to be cheered by the weather. Lydia walked beside him, fashionable sunglasses perched on her dainty nose. The pair had just stepped out of Lydia's luxurious car, having been discharged from the hospital. Now they were walking towards the front door of the Stilinski household. He couldn't think of it as home anymore, not without his dad pottering around the kitchen, raiding the fridge for junk food. The thought brought the tiniest of smiles to his face, but it didn't stay for long. Leaning heavily on his crutch, he hobbled along in silence, making no effort to talk to Lydia. She picked up on his mood and was happy to walk in companionable silence. When they reached the door, Stiles dug into his pocket, searching for the keys. After a few minutes of searching, realisation hit him and he swore under his breath.

Lydia looked up at his irritated features, "What's wrong?"

"The keys," he mumbled, gesturing to the door as he spoke, "The keys were with my car keys, which got blown up with my poor Jeep. I can't believe I can't even get into my own house!" He thumped to door with his fist, which only served to hurt his hand. As he cradled it gingerly, he glanced over at Lydia who was rummaging in her purse. "What are you doing?" His voice wasn't at all sceptical, just genuinely curious.

Still rummaging through her bag, she answered, "Looking... for... this!" She pulled her hand out of the bag, triumphantly waving the key in front of her friends face. His bewildered expression spurred a snort of laughter to escape her, which in turn, set him off laughing. They stood there laughing at each other for quite some time, until eventually Stiles had regained enough of his composure to ask:

"Why do you have a key to my house?" He was still grinning, doing his best not to break down laughing again.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, smiling as she spoke, "I had one made. Just in case I needed to burst in and save you at the last minute."

He blinked, surprise plastered on his face. Eventually he snapped out of it, pointing at the girl in front of him, "Okay, you have been spending _way_ too much time around me."

She pouted, "Are you complaining?"

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, and he shook his head hurriedly, "No! No, no complaining here!"

She stuck her tongue out at him before unlocking the door and leading the way into the hall. The air inside the house felt heavy and thick, and it was eerily quiet. Lydia took a steadying breath, turning to see Stiles faltering in the doorway. He was staring around the place as though it were totally foreign to him, and he was clearly doing his best not to cry. "Stiles?" Lydia called out to him, and he shifted his gaze to the girl in front of him. Edging towards him, she held out her hand for him to take. Like a lost child, he grabbed it, letting her lead him towards the stairs and up to his room. He sat on the bed. Joining him Lydia put an arm around his shoulder, doing her best to comfort him. His gaze was set on the investigation board in the middle of the room.

Silently, he stood up from the mattress and hobbled over to the clear board. Reaching down he took hold of the eraser, and slowly began wiping away all their efforts at finding his dad. Malia had at least had the decency to bring the body back to Stiles, although it was currently in the hospital morgue. That was where it would stay until the funeral. A lump rose in his throat, but he gulped it down and began to rub faster. Putting the eraser down, he started tearing all of the photographs and pieces of paper down, throwing them to the floor. With each movement, he became more distressed, starting to shout as he tore down the investigation. Once more he grabbed the eraser, trying his hardest to rub out the white ink. After a couple of seconds of frantic wiping he yelled in frustration, throwing the eraser at the board. Staggering back, he ran his hands through his hair, mid-way through a mental breakdown. He had almost completely forgotten that Lydia was still there.

She just appeared beside him, picking up the discarded eraser and gently cleaning the rest of the board. When she had finished, she turned to face him, a sympathetic smile on her face. The memory of her brief encounter with the Sherriff suddenly jumped to the front of her mind, and she gasped. Stiles looked concerned, whipping his head around to inspect the room, "What, Lydia what is it?"

Regaining her composure, she smiled at him, guiding him back to the bed so they could sit down together. Taking his hand, she began to explain, "Stiles, I know it's not much, but do you remember that vision I had with your dad?"

His forehead crinkled in confusion, but he nodded anyway, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Well," she continued, "he asked me to tell you a few things, if this were to happen. I didn't tell you before because I didn't want either of you to give up. But I guess now would be the time to tell you."

Stiles suddenly found that his mouth was very dry, and when he tried to talk, the sound was scratchy and quiet. "What did he say?"

Biting he lip, Lydia tried to hold back her tears, wanting to be sure that she remembered every word. "He said to tell you that it wasn't your fault, what happened to him, or your mom. And that he loved you, and that he'd wished he told you more often. He also said to say that I was almost as annoying as you, and that you should seriously reconsider your choice in girlfriend." He laughed and she giggled, breaking into a sob before she could stop herself. Doing his best to comfort her, he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shhh shh. Lydia it's alright. Thank you for telling me."

She sobbed into his chest, her tears forming wet patches on his t-shirt. "I just wish- that we could've-"

He held her head close to his heart, chin resting on her hair, "I know, me too. Me too." Slowly he rocked back and forth, hoping to help calm her down. After a while, she pulled back, sniffing and wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry. Here I am bawling my eyes out, when I'm supposed to be looking after you." She looked away. Raising a hand to her face, Stiles used his thumb to wipe away her tears. Turning her to face him again, he smiled at her.

"Hey it's alright. We're supposed to look after each other, Lyds. That's how it works." He smiled at her, and she smiled back, appreciative of his understanding. The pair sat in silence together for the better part of an hour, until the grumbling of Stile's stomach broke the silence. He grabbed his stomach in embarrassment. Lydia was covering her mouth, doing her best not to laugh.

"Are you hungry by any chance?" She chuckled as she spoke.

Looking up at her with a sheepish grin he replied, "Maybe just a little bit."

Standing up, she reached for his hand, "Come on then, I'll cook dinner."

Stiles stood, taking her hand and letting her lead him downstairs to the kitchen. Once there, she began bustling around, looking for something to cook. Eventually she found some bacon in the fridge. She set about making a couple of bacon rolls, and ordered Stiles to set the table. He jumped up, rushing over to the cupboard where the plates were kept. Grabbing some cups he set two places at the table, pouring water into both of the cups. By the time he had finished, Lydia was just about done cooking the bacon. Stiles sat patiently at the table while she did the finishing touches. After what felt like forever, she glided over to the table, setting his roll down in front of him. "Bacon a la Martin." She plopped down opposite him and they both tore into their roles. Neither of them had realised just how hungry they were.

"Lydia this is amazing." Stiles spoke through a large mouthful. She wrinkled her nose at him, and he raised his eyebrows, speaking innocently, "What?"

Making sure to swallow her mouthful before she spoke, Lydia shook her head at him, "It'd be a lot easier to understand you if you didn't speak with your mouth full."

Stiles laughed, choking slightly before swallowing his food. Wiping his mouth he scrutinised Lydia, "Did you just mom me?"

Surprise jolted through her, "What? No! Stiles I would never-"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Letting out a puff of air, she gave in, "I suppose I did yes. But it's just good manners!"

Stiles chuckled, "Well I promise not to speak with my mouth full so long as you promise to keep making such delicious bacon rolls."

"Deal." She stuck out her hand over the table, and he shook it firmly as though they had just made a business proposition. As they were cleaning up, there was a knock at the door. Frowning slightly, Stiles walked into the hall to answer it. Grabbing the handle he pulled, swinging the heavy door open to reveal Scott standing on his doorstep.

"Scott?" Stiles was astonished. His friend hadn't spoken to him since Stiles revealed the fact that he had killed Donovan.

His friend stared up at him with his puppy dog eyes and shuffled his feet insecurely. "Stiles I came to apologise. You needed me and I should have been there for you. It's just, when you told me about Donovan, I couldn't believe you hadn't told me sooner. Yeah I was mad, disappointed maybe-"

"It was a mistake Scott." Stiles's tone had darkened, and he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Rain started to fall around them, quickly getting heavier. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

Scott stared at him, "But Stiles, there must have been another way for you to escape. We shouldn't be killing the people we're trying to save!" The rain had thoroughly soaked both of them now.

Stiles stared at his friend incredulously, "Scott, don't you think if there was another way, I would have done it?! Do you actually believe I did this on purpose?"

Shaking his head, Scott growled, "I don't know Stiles. Maybe! Why didn't you call for help?!"

"He had my phone Scott! What was I supposed to do? Howl? I'm not a werewolf Scott, I don't have superpowers!"

"I can't believe your trying to justify killing a man!" Scott took a step away from him, staring at his friend in shock.

Stiles yelled in frustration, pointing at Scott accusingly as he shouted, "Not all of us can be true alphas okay? Some of us have to make mistakes. Some of us are _human!_ "

Laughing bitterly, Scott glared at him, "I guess so. I just thought you were a better human than that. Clearly I was wrong." And with that, Scott stormed over to his bike, jumping on and speeding off.

Stiles yelled after him, "SCOTT! It was a MISTAKE! SCOTT!" With no reply, Stiles hobbled back to the front door, casting aside his crutch and sitting on the step with a loud thump. He yelled once more in frustration, burying his head in his hands. Everything was falling apart so quickly. His plan had been that at the end of senior year, no one got left behind, but now that had crumbled into disaster. Malia was gone. Scott hated him. His dad was dead. And his precious Jeep, which had made it through the whole of high school with him, was sitting rusting in some scrap site. He was still riddled with guilt for killing Donovan. It really had been a mistake, he was just trying to get away. When he pulled the pin on the scaffolding, the worst he'd thought it would do was knock the kid out. He could still remember the sickening squelch, remembered turning his head, the view of an impaled Donovan slowly coming into view. He remembered the panic, grabbing hold of the metal strut speared through the man's torso. What bothered him was the fact that when he was holding it, he didn't know if he wanted to pull it out, or push it further in. Just as he decided to pull it out, Donovan had died. Just like that. "I killed him." Stiles groaned into his hands. "I'm a horrible human being. I'm a _murderer_. He hit his head with his hands, as though he were attempting to knock the memory out of his mind.

A pair of gentle hands grabbed his arms, forcing him to stop hitting himself. Soft but persistent, they forced his hands into his lap. He looked up to see Lydia standing in front of him. For once, she wasn't smiling. Instead she looked crestfallen, sad eyes and slight frown gracing her pretty face. "Stiles?"

He looked at her, blinking the rain water out of his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault. He would have killed you."

Stiles shook his head, "He told me, he said 'Im not going to kill you, Stiles. Im just going to eat your legs.' He wasn't going to kill me"

Lydia blinked, a frown creasing her now dripping forehead. "Stiles, I'm pretty sure you would have died from blood loss if he had eaten your legs."

"Yeah maybe. I should never have pulled that pin." He buried his face in his palms once more.

To his surprise, Lydia's next words came out exasperated, almost irritated. "Well Stiles, I'm glad you did. You want to know why? Because if you hadn't, what would you have done? Jumped from the scaffolding? Let him eat your legs? Let him kill you? You didn't know the pole would impale him, you were just trying to survive. You shouldn't feel guilty over that. And you _definitely_ shouldn't wish that you had just let him hurt you."

He stared at her in shock before shaking his head, "I don't know Lyds, maybe it would have been better if I had just let him kill me."

"URGHHHH! You are so infuriating! That's the problem Stiles, you don't seem to care if you get hurt. But want to know how I would feel? I'd be devastated!" She knelt down in front of him, "And if you die, I will literally go out of my freaking mind."

He blinked at her, a smile forming on his lips, "So are you gonna quote all of my lines back at me, or just the good ones?"

She pulled a mock thoughtful face, "Oh, probably just my favourites."

"I'm glad I made such an impression."

"As I recall, most of your advice was inspired by and aimed at me. So really, isn't it actually me that made the impression."

He laughed, "There are so many problems with that logic, I'm not even gonna start. But okay, fine, you can take credit for them if you want." He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture.

She grabbed his hands and pulled him up. "I don't care about the credit, so long as I have you."

Grinning broadly, he hugged her, squeezing her tightly and lifting her up into the air. "I'd carry you back inside, but, what with my foot and all-"

"Aww poor baby, do you want a piggy back ride?" She laughed as he put her down.

A wicked grin spread across his face and he had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Well, since you offered, yes, that would be lovely."

She stared at him in shock, before screwing up her face in determination. "Alright then, hop on."

Taken aback, Stiles interrogated her, "What? Seriously?"

"Get on Stilinski."

" _You're_ gonna carry _me_. While wearing _those_ heels?" He was having a hard time figuring out if she was joking or not.

"Yes, now- Get. On." Her tone left no room for argument, so he carefully climbed onto her offered back. She stumbled slightly under his weight, but quickly regained her balance. He stuck his crutch out in front of them, pointing towards the open door to the house.

"FOR NARNIA!" He yelled as she walked through the door, she rolled her eyes at his antics. He was ready to get off in the hall, but to his surprise she carried him all the way to the living room before dumping him on the couch. He flailed around on the pillows for a moment before looking at her with a goofy smile, "Well aren't you just full of surprises."


	11. The Funeral

The day he had been dreading had finally arrived. Suitably dark and overcast, the sky brooded with the promise of an oncoming storm. A strong breeze was whistling through the trees, and causing the older buildings in Beacon Hills to creak and groan. Stiles stood in front of the hall mirror, tying and retying his tie. With each attempt, his frustration grew until he gave an exasperated shout and threw the fabric to the ground. The past few days had been hard enough already. Scott still wouldn't talk to him, which in turn put Kira and Liam in an awkward mid-ground. The end result was that Lydia was the only one left who could actually have a normal conversation with him. She had been with him the entire time, only going home to get a bag full of clothes and toiletries. Sitting at the table sorting out hospital bills from electricity bills, which also had to be kept separate from mortgage payments would have driven him crazy had she not been there with a comforting smile and two mugs of hot chocolate. Visiting the morgue to confirm it was his dad's body had been one of the worst days by far. He remembered the stale, cold air of the room. It had a quality to it that managed to chill him to the bone the moment he crossed the threshold.

Melissa had been with him, holding his hand for comfort. In any other situation it would have been weird, especially considering her son wasn't speaking to him anymore, but in the moment he was highly grateful. The sound of the metal bed sliding out on runners haunted him in the rare moments of sleep he got. It was a slow, harsh, dead sound that dug into his heart and made him want to run out of the room before he saw anything else. But he had forces himself to stay, to look at his father and to make sure that it was him. He hated to admit it, but there had been a childish part of him that hoped that it wouldn't be his dad. That there had been some sort of mix up and that John Stilinski was still alive somewhere out there. That illusion had been shattered the moment Melissa had pulled the sheet covering the body back. It was him. Unmistakeably, irrefutably his father, and yet, Stiles refused to believe it. He had stood, shaking his head, denying the cold hard truth in front of him. Melissa had tried telling him gently that it _was_ John, but Stiles just refused to accept it. He began noticing differences that weren't there. "But Melissa look, his hair's not parted the right way, and- and he has stubble. It can't be him dad was always clean shaven, he had to be for work."

"Stiles-" Melissa had taken a hold of him as he began shaking, backing away from the table, "Stiles I am so sorry. But this _is_ him. You need to accept that and mourn him the way he deserved. Stiles you need to do this for him." Once she had finished speaking, he had torn his gaze from the body to look her in the eyes. He had studied her gaze for a moment, almost pleading with his eyes, begging her to somehow change what had happened. Finally, he had given up, cracking under the weight of tragedy. Totally unashamed, he had broken down crying in front of his best friend's mother. He had thrown himself into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder.

"It's him. Melissa it's him. It's him, it's him, it's him!"

Stiles blinked, dragging himself out of the memory and back to the present. Staring in the mirror he realised that he had been crying, and brushed away the tear tracks angrily. On closer inspection, he realised just how dark the circles under his eyes had become. He really needed a good night's sleep. Sighing, he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. He stood wallowing in the silence for what felt like an eternity, until it was interrupted by a timid voice from behind him. He opened his eyes, staring into the mirror at the reflection of Lydia Martin. She wore a simple black dress, fitted at the top, hanging elegantly from the waist down. She had pinned her hair up in some sort of intricate plait. She was the picture of perfection, as always, which only served to make Stiles feel worse. She looked incredible and he couldn't even do his tie up right. She said his name again, and he turned around slowly, "Yeah?" He did his best to sound normal, but these days it was nearly impossible. His voice was crumbling under the strain of heartbreak, loss, exhaustion, anxiety and a whole miss-match of other emotions.

She walked towards him, black heels clicking slightly on the hall floor. Bending down she picked up his discarded tie, turning to him as she spoke. "Would you like a hand with this?"

Rubbing his nose he nodded. Without another word she began silently sorting his appearance. Watching her work away on his tie, he voiced the thought that had been bothering him all day. "Do you think he'll be there?"

Lydia finished the knot in the tie before looking up at Stiles, "He'll be there. Scott may be in a huff, but he won't leave you alone for this. Not today."

Stiles sighed, "I hope you're right. I don't know if I'm going to be able to do this without him. He was there for when my mom died, helped me get through it you know? And now-"

She cut him off, "And now you have me. And the rest of the pack. You can do this Stiles, we'll get through it together. Now come on, we don't want to be late." With that, she brushed of his suit one last time before taking his hand and leading him out of the door. Her car was parked neatly in the drive, and the pair got in, setting off in silence.

When they pulled up to the church, Stiles was overwhelmed by the huge crowd of people that were there. Surely they weren't all there just for his dad. A warm glow lodged itself in his heart to see that so many people cared. Taking a steadying breath, he climbed out of the car, taking Lydia's hand and walking towards the door. The previously chattering crowd fell silent, clearing a path between him and the entrance to the church. He hated the fact that people were staring. He'd spent years becoming someone else than just 'the poor kid who's mom died', and now, here he was again, 'that poor kid who got orphaned at seventeen'. The thought jolted him. Technically, he was an orphan now, sure there were only a few months till he turned eighteen, but the label still stuck to him. Orphan. In that moment he decided that he hated the word, the very thought of it causing an unpleasant tingle to start under his skin. Shaking it off, he headed to the front of the church, standing at the lectern as he watched everyone filter in. Lydia was sitting in the very front row, next to Melissa and Parrish. Liam and Kira had shown up, sitting a few rows back, giving him weak smiles. More and more people kept arriving, until the church was positively bursting at the seams. When they could no longer fit any more people in, they decided to throw open all of the large oak doors, so that the people stuck standing outside could still observe proceedings.

Stiles was definitely not prepared for this. Saying his speech to his mirror had been difficult enough, so reciting it in front of all these people was going to be a nightmare. The celebrationist called for silence, and suddenly everyone was staring at Stiles. He could feel their gazes like hot pokers on his skin, making him shift uncomfortably where he stood. Shuffling his papers on the lectern, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming today. Looking out and seeing the faces of all the people that my dad had helped, or touched in some way, his friends, his co-workers, even near strangers who felt the need to pay their respects, it gives me this warm feeling in my heart. Of course I knew what an amazing man my dad was, but I just never realised how many other people saw it. John Stilinski was a man who always put the needs of others first. I think that's one of the reasons he was such a good Sherriff. No matter how rough things got for him, he always had to make sure that everyone else was safe and happy before he even thought about giving himself a rest. He also had the patients of a saint. Living with me can't have been easy, I have a bad habit of interfering with everything. But my dad never complained, well, that's not entirely true, but even with all of the stupid, dangerous, idiot things I did, he loved me unconditionally. I only wish that I had thought to tell him what he meant to me more often. When I was younger, he was this superhero who fought off bad guys and always saved the day. Once I grew up a bit, I realised that although he wasn't actually a super hero, he was possibly the closest thing to it that you can get. He saved lives, solved crimes, took down criminals and looked after Beacon Hills, all while being a single father at home. Yeah, he was definitely as close to Batman or Superman as you can get. You know, it's strange. I never really thought about what I would say in this situation, those of you who know me will understand how weird it is for me not to scrutinise every possible circumstance or outcome, but this is just something that I never saw happening. Of course I knew that one day, what I hoped would be years in the future, I'd have to say goodbye, but it never even crossed my mind that it could happen so soon. I only wish that I had taken the time to talk to my dad more, that I had stuck with trying to teach him chess so we could have had even one game. But more than anything else I wish that I had told him how much I love him. How proud I am of him, and how much he means to me. Of course, these things are never going to change, he's always going to be a superhero to me. And somewhere, out in the universe maybe he can hear this and maybe he knows how I feel about him, and that's a comforting thought. I don't know what went through his mind before he died. I don't know where he was or why it happened. But I do know that he wasn't alone, and that means the world to me-" Stiles glanced at Lydia, a small smile on his lips, "-and now, today, seeing everyone here paying their respects to the amazing man who was my father, I realise that he'll never truly be alone again. His spirit lives on in me, lives on in his friends, in anyone who remembers him with a fond smile or a kind word. So for that I thank you all, as long as we keep John Stilinski in our hearts and our thoughts, then he never truly will be alone out there. I think I've probably spoken enough, this day is about celebrating the life of my dad, and the lives of those he protected, so I just want to say one last thank you-" Stiles turned to the coffin beside him, which was close-topped due to his father's injuries, "-to my dad. Thank you for putting up with me, for loving me, for taking care of me, for always being there for me, for believing in me. Thank you for believing." Stiles rested his hand on the pale wood before turning back to the crowd, tears running freely down his cheeks. His voice was wavering and he found it very difficult to make the end of his speech audible. "The world got a little bit darker when John Stilinski left it, so everyone here has to make me a promise, to respect his memory. Every day, at some point, think like John Stilinski. Do something selfless, kind, go out of your way for someone else. The light only has to fade if we let it, so don't. Keep up my dad's work, don't let his light go out. Look after each other, because he isn't here to do it anymore. Thank you."

He stared at the audience as he moved to sit down in between Lydia and Melissa. He was shocked to see that most people were openly crying, smiling at him through tears. Kira was sobbing quietly into her mother's shoulder, and Liam was biting his knuckle, doing his best not to cry. A quick scan of the crowd showed no sign of Scott. Shaking his head sadly, Stiles looked to Lydia, who was openly crying and trying to comfort him and the same time. This resulted in her holding his hand, while resting her head on his shoulder. They sat like that, listening to the rest of proceedings in mournful silence. Once everyone had said their piece, the procession moved outside, to the graveyard. Stiles had picked the spot for his dad, paying extra to make sure that he got it. The headstone reading _Sherriff John Stilinski_ sat side by side with the one reading _Claudia Stilinski_. It only felt right for them to be laid to rest together. Watching his father's coffin being lowered into the ground, throwing on the first fistful of dirt, was one of the hardest things he had ever done. It felt so final. There was never any going back or turning back time, but once the body was in the ground, it really hit him. He was _never_ going to see his father _ever_ again. That would be the last time he ever saw his father, and it was already gone. With each load of dirt that got dropped on top of the shining wooden surface, he felt a nail being driven harder and harder into his throat.

Thud.

 _He's gone._

Thud.

 _I'm never going to see his face again_.

THUD.

 _I'm never going to hug my dad ever again_.

 **THUD**.

 _My dad is dead._

 **THUD.**


	12. The Plan

Stiles yelled in frustration, throwing his phone across the room. Two days since the funeral. Two whole days and still no contact from Scott. Stiles just couldn't believe him. He understood that Scott was mad at him, but to leave him on his own on the day of his dad's funeral? Stiles would never have done such a thing. Groaning he threw himself back on the bed, pressing the palms of his hands into his weary eyes. This was one of the rare moments when he was alone in the house. Lydia had to talk to her mom about something, and Stiles had assured her that he'd be fine, practically pushing her out of the door. It wasn't that he wanted rid of her, quite the opposite, but he wanted her to be able to get on with her life like usual, he hated feeling like he was dragging her down. So, he told her he'd be fine. He wasn't fine. Every time he closed his eyes images of his father's dead body swam across his vision. Every silence was filled with the sound of that phone call with Malia. It kept replaying in his head, and he analysed it over and over, wishing he had kept her talking just a little bit longer. If he had, maybe he would have gotten there in time to stop her. Giving up on resting, he sat up slowly, his gaze drifting to the investigation board.

Lydia had cleaned up all of the papers he had thrown on the floor, and they now sat in a neat pile on his desk. He stared at it for a long time. It probably wouldn't be healthy to start obsessing over this, but then again it would distract his mind, keep him from driving himself crazy. He needed to be doing _something_. He made up his mind and hobbled over to the other side of the room, picking up the pile of papers. In a rush, he sifted through them, pulling out the ones he deemed important. With the reduced pile now gripped tightly in his hands, he walked towards the investigation board. Piece by piece, he assembled a new investigation on the board. However, this time the end goal was not to find someone. His end goal was revenge. The drawing of the dread doctor that Lydia had given him was taped right in the centre of the board, and branching out from it in all directions were possible ways to take them down. "Okay," he spoke quickly, hyping himself up, "time to be Batman." He spent at least two hours working on his plans, scrapping plan A and making his way to plan F before he was happy. When he heard the front door open he jumped up, scrambling around he grabbed a bed sheet and threw it over the board, not wanting Lydia to think he was going mad.

To his surprise, the person that came crashing through the door to his bedroom was in fact Liam. "Stiles?!" The boy looked around wildly before focusing his gaze on the startled boy before him.

"Liam? Wha- hold on how did you get into my house?" Stiles stared sternly at him, causing Liam to squirm guiltily. "Liam?"

The boy looked up at Stiles with wide puppy dog eyes, "It was important and you weren't answering the door. So I picked the lock with my claws." He held up a hand and wiggled his fingers.

Stiles smiled, "Impressive, I'm just glad you didn't break the door down."

Liam beamed, but suddenly seemed to remember why he was there, a much darker expression taking over his features. "Stiles, we got a problem."

"What, besides the three maniacal doctors, many _many_ killer chimeras running around trying to kill us, and the horrible failure that is our lacrosse team this year?"

Liam rolled his eyes, "Stiles this is serious."

"Right, okay. Sorry." Stiles laughed as he replied. It was nice not to have Liam tiptoeing around him like he almost always did these days.

"It's Scott."

Stiles frowned, turning his back on Liam, "What about him?"

"He's missing."

"So?"

"So you need to get over your stupid argument and come help find your best friend. He got taken Stiles."

Stiles' frown deepened, and he took a step towards Liam, "Taken? Taken by who?"

Liam gulped, "The Dread Doctors."

The whole room started spinning. Liam became nothing more than a simple blur in the distance. Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. After everything that had happened, after Malia had _killed_ his dad to protect the pack, they had still taken one of them. And Scott of all people. Suddenly everything came into focus, and Stiles began shaking his head, determination evident in his every move. "No. Nuh uh. This is _not_ happening again. I'm stopping this once and for all."

Liam stood in the doorway looking highly confused. He clearly thought that Stiles had finally lost it. Who could blame him, looking at the wild eyed boy as he rushed around his room muttering to himself about plan c or plan e, and which one would work best. Finally the kid had had enough, and he interrupted his crazed friend. "STILES!"

Stiles snapped to a halt, staring questioningly at Liam, "What?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Stiles walked right up to Liam so that there was only a few inches between their faces. "I'm getting ready for Plan G. But first I have to finish making Plan G, because I didn't see this coming." He moved to turn away, but froze mid turn. Ever so slowly he looked back to Liam, who looked thoroughly freaked out.

"What? What is it?"

Stiles pressed his lips together in thought, before putting a firm hand on Liam's shoulder. "Liam, I need you to do something for me. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important, but I don't want you to do it unless you want to. But it'll help save Scott."

Something sparked in Liam's eyes and he spoke quickly, "Anything, just tell me what to do."

Stiles nodded and explained the plan to him.

An hour later Stiles was racing along on Scott's motorbike, which he had 'borrowed' as a part of Plan G. On the bike, it only took him ten minutes to reach the site where the old Hale house used to be. Taking a few steadying breaths, Stiles parked the bike and switched off the engine. The silence it left was smothering, filling every corner of the woods around him. His heart was beating so fast he feared it might break a rib or two in its palpitations. Doing his best to suppress his anxiety, he began walking towards the spot Malia had told him to go to. With each step, his feet began to feel heavier and heavier, as though begging him to turn around and rethink what he was doing. But then he would think of Scott, and what might be happening to him every second that Stiles wasted thinking about turning back. Scott was his brother, he wasn't just going to abandon him down there. After a huge internal struggle, his brave side won, and he climbed down into the dark, dripping passage way.

The cold mixed with the damp air set him off shivering straight away. Each step he took echoed along the slimy dark corridor. For a while, all he could see in front of him was darkness, and all he could hear were his footsteps and his ragged breathing. But then a deep mechanical voice interrupted the rhythm, and Stiles came to a halt, straining to hear what was happening. If he really listened hard, he thought he could hear Scott struggling against some sort of restraints. The voice was cruel, taunting it's prisoner. "Is that how you treat all your friends, Scott? Abandon them? Leave them alone when they need you most?" The sounds of struggling grew and Stiles could hear Scott beginning to growl. "Stiles needed you and you abandoned him. Your pack has fallen apart. Which is why I can take you, without breaking my promise to the werecoyote. I promised not to hurt her pack, but she doesn't have one anymore." Stiles let out a small gasp in shock, realising what he had done. It was _his_ fault. By banishing Malia from the pack he had negated his dad's unwilling sacrifice. He had endangered everyone. A mechanical laugh sounded from down the hall, and Stiles forced himself to listen once more, "Yes, you abandoned Stiles, but for some foolish reason, he refuses to give up on you. Stiles would never abandon you. How stupid of him."

Before he knew what was happening, someone had grabbed him from behind with a vice like grip, one hand pulling on his hair, the other pinning his hands behind his back. He struggled against them with all his might, but they were freakishly strong, and forced him to walk down the corridor. The sounds of his scuffle must have reached Scott, because he spoke up, addressing the dread doctor. "What was that?"

The doctor simply repeated what he said before. "Stiles would never abandon you."

"What does that mean?!" Scott renewed his struggles against his restraints. Just before Scott turned wolf in frustration, Stiles was forced around the corner, wincing under the grip the other doctor had on his hair. His lip had been split in the struggle, and was now swollen and bleeding freely.

"It means," Stiles gasped, "that there was no way I was leaving you down here on your own."

Scott looked incredulously at his friend, eyes still glowing red. "Stiles? What are you doing?"

Stiles laughed through his discomfort, "I'm here to save you, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Scott chuckled, "Not that."

"Well I could just leave-" Stiles tried to move but the Doctor behind him tightened his grip, causing a gasp of pain to shoot out of his mouth.

The one who appeared to be the leader spoke up. "Not possible."

Stiles stared at him, analysing the Doctor's behaviour. Eventually he spoke up, spitting out blood before saying, "Okay then, well how about a trade?"

Scott jolted in his restraints, "Stiles what are you doing?"

"Shh! Come on, what do you say? A trade, Scott for me? Good deal right?"

The doctor tilted its head at Stiles, spurring a series of clicks and whirrs to escape his metal suit. "Not possible."

Stiles rolled his eyes, adopting an almost whining tone, "Well why not?"

"We have studied you Stiles. You have no supernatural ability; you are not required for experimentation. You are useless. Not possible." The doctor signalled for the other, the one holding Stiles, to take him away. Stiles began shouting and resisting, knowing that trying to get out of his grip would be useless.

"You're wrong!" As soon as he said it, the doctors froze, with the leader slowly turning to face him. Silently, the creature advanced towards him, its metal feet making a loud clanging noise against the ground.

When the Doctor was directly in front of Stiles, face pressed right up to Stiles's, he spoke again, voice slow and calculated, "Not possible."

Stiles adopted a smug expression, smirk on his lips, "Are you sure? Cause I'm pretty sure you're wrong." After he had spoken, the Doctor paused for a moment before grabbing Stiles by the throat. The creature lifted him into the air, cutting off his air supply. Flailing desperately, Stiles managed to gasp out a few words. "Check... my... arm." The second Doctor acted immediately, pulling on Stiles's arm, jolting it painfully. Wasting no time, the creature pushed up his sleeve to reveal a bleeding bite mark on his lower arm, that was already showing signs of healing.

The dread doctor dropped the boy, "Recalculating." Stiles rubbed his throat, glancing up at Scott. His best friend was staring at him in horror, shocked into being still, no longer struggling against his bindings. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before the Dread Doctor spoke up once more. "Offer acceptable. Scott, you are free to go." As if on command, the restrictions holding down Scott retracted into the table, leaving him free to get up. Ignoring his own safety, Scott ran over to Stiles, helping him stand up.

"Stiles what have you done?"

"Made sure that they won't hurt you. Scott I know what I did was wrong, and this isn't me asking for forgiveness because I don't deserve it. But I couldn't leave you here. So now it's my turn to be Batman, and you get to be Robin. And a Batman always saves his Robin, so get the hell outta here." Stiles tried to push him away, but Scott held onto him.

"Stiles I'm not leaving you here. How did you even manage this?"

"Plan G, sure-fire, fool-proof idea."

"You know what I mean, who did this?" Scott grabbed his friends arm and inspected the bite.

"If I tell you, you have to promise me not to hold it against the person. I asked them to do it, made it sound like I just wanted the bite. Do you promise? Scott?" Stiles stared down his friend until eventually he gave in.

"I promise."

"Alright. It was Liam. He was really uneasy about doing it, but I managed to convince him. Make sure he knows this isn't his fault. This was my choice."

"Stiles- I'm sorry, I should have been there."

Stiles looked into his friends eyes, searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to have found it, for he smiled encouragingly, saying "Tell me later Scott. Now get your ass out of here before I throw you out myself."

Scott took a few steps back, shaking his head in denial. "I'm coming back for you Stiles, with everyone. It's all gonna be fine Stiles! I'm getting you out of here!" His shouts died away as he was forcibly removed by one of the Dread Doctors. Stiles turned to stare at the room, walking around and fiddling with all of the different, painful looking instruments.

"So uh, what sorta experiments are we doing here? Sciency stuff? Oooh do I get to use a Bunsen burner? I love those things!" He clapped his hands together, turning to face the doctors with mock enthusiasm.

The leader took a step forwards, distorted voice setting an itch off inside Stiles's skull. "We will monitor the changing process. We will conduct biopsies. We will experiment with the gene pool. Dissection may be necessary. Experiments may result in condition terminal."

Stiles gulped, "Well that doesn't sound so fun."

And then they grabbed him, forcing him back into the restraint bed Scott had been sitting in minutes before.


	13. The Experiments

Lydia paced the length of Stile's bedroom, and the rest of the pack sat on the bed, following her movements with their gaze. Scott, Liam, Kira and Mason were all trying their best to help Lydia calm down. Kira spoke up, "Lydia it's going to be okay, we're going to save him."

Coming to an abrupt halt, Lydia stared at her friend, "Kira you don't know that. You don't feel what I feel."

Mason looked highly confused, raising a hand warily, "Sorry I'm new to all this. Is this a banshee impending death feeling or something different?"

Rolling her eyes Lydia resumed her pacing, "It's different. Stiles and I have this weird connection. It's like there's this emotional tether between the two of us. Recently it's gotten stronger, and sometimes I feel what he feels."

Concerned, Scott stood up, standing in Lydia's path, causing her to stop, "And what's he feeling right now?"

Wide eyed and shaking, Lydia replied, speaking with a hushed voice, "Pain. Lots and lots of pain."

Stiles had been in pain before. For instance, when the Nogitsune had almost killed him, the pain had been overwhelming, his whole body turning into a big, dull, ache. When he had broken his foot, that was painful. Donovan's teeth ripping into his shoulder had been excruciating, however, nothing compared to this. Every fibre of his being felt as though it were burning, dissolving as though acid had been injected into his veins. With a glance at the strange tubes sticking out of his arms, he realised that that was quite possibly the case. The itch in his skull was infuriating, making him want to hit his head against the bed again and again. He was bound at the ankles and the wrists, so at least he was allowed some movement. When the pain became too much, he would thrash in his restraints, shouting and screaming at no one in particular. The only thing that was getting him through the ordeal was the thought that Scott was safe. Lydia was safe. Liam and Kira, they were all safe so long as he was down there.

His concept of time had been completely obliterated. There was no natural light in the old sewer room, and the only ticking noise came from the Dread Doctors not a clock. Gasping after a particularly loud scream he stared down at his arm, inspecting the large tube sticking out of it. It seemed to be split in two, with his own bright red blood going out one direction, whilst a strange silver, almost metallic looking substance was pumped into him. The substance had the odd quality of making his arm feel both numb and painful at the same time. Groaning he turned to inspect his other arm, where Liam had bitten him. The place where the bite had been was now just smooth skin, the wound having completely healed. _Well at least that's something_ he thought, _maybe my healing factor will start to kick in soon._

The Doctors had been breaking his ribs periodically. Only snapping one at a time, and studying how it started to heal if at all. Hearing the crunch of your own bones was sickening, and when coupled with the pain, Stiles found it nearly impossible not to vomit or pass out. However, he persevered, doing his best to stay strong for the pack. He screwed up his face as another wave of white hot pain hit him, crashing over his body. Straining against the bindings on his arm, he let another scream escape him. His hands were balled into fists, so when he felt a sharp slicing sensation in his palms, he opened them quickly. Staring down at his hands he blinked in surprise. Each of his fingers ended in a long, dark claw, which were all now coated in his own blood, as they had just been speared into his palms.

The change didn't go unnoticed by the Doctors, for all of a sudden all three of them were surrounding Stiles. They moved as a unit, not needing to talk to each other to communicate. Tired of the lonely silence, Stiles risked speaking up. "So what does this mean?" He waved his fingers about to indicate what he was talking about.

The leader turned its head to look at him, dark voice booming out of the slits in his metal mask. "Your condition improves. Healing factor seems amplified. Testing required." The third Doctor held up an instrument that Stiles had become all too familiar with.

"No no no!" Stiles pulled against his restraints, "Please not again. Can't we wait a while to-" he was cut off by his own harsh screams as the Doctor broke another rib. Panting, he looked at the leader, "Why are you doing this? What's the point?" Already he could feel his bone beginning to heal, and the pain was rapidly subsiding.

Studying the boy for a moment, the Doctor eventually replied, "Your condition improves." Then the three of them disappeared, the only trace that they had ever been there being the clicks and whirs that followed them.

Yelling in frustration Stiles shouted after them, "Do you always have to be so vague?! Can you at least tell me what day it is?" When no response came, he growled in anger. As the moments passed, he found himself getting angrier and angrier. Rage was building up inside him, appearing from nowhere, and he had no idea how to control it. He wanted to hurt something. To _kill_ something. It was as though he had this uncontrollable bloodlust all of a sudden. Starting up his struggle to break free once again, he began pulling against his bindings. He found that he was making more progress, that he was rapidly getting stronger. In the midst of all his thrashing, he caught his reflection in the glass of some strange oversized test tube. Frozen, he studied himself.

It was unmistakably him, but so foreign at the same time. Facial hair, which he had usually struggled to grow, had sprouted in the form of thick sideburns that ran down to his jaw line. His forehead was distended, jutting out far more than usual, running down into his nose. His ears were much larger than usual, ending in elf like points. What shocked him the most was the colour of his eyes. They were glowing a bright, piercing _blue_. His heart plummeted and he felt the world caving in on him. _Of course they're blue, did you really think they wouldn't be?_ Reprimanding himself mentally, Stiles gulped, _You've killed more than one person idiot. Donovan, the people from the Sherriff's department, all the people in the hospital, it's your fault Allison died. Of course they're blue._ He closed his eyes, no longer wanting to stare at the proof that he was a murderer. Some hopeful part of him thought that perhaps they would be a warm amber, due to the fact that he had been possessed when he had killed most of those people, and because Donovan had tried to kill him. Looking away he concluded that the rules were simple, and that he was a murderer.

He could feel the sharp teeth in his mouth, foreign and strange. The desire to wreak havoc was still strong, but seeing his reflection had reduced it slightly. Screwing up his face he thought hard. _What would Scott say? How do I control this?_ Rapidly, he surfed through his memories of the past few years, and everything he did to help Scott gain control of his powers. Something Derek had said popped into his head:

 _Find an anchor._

Derek's had been pain, he stated that pain made him human, but clearly that wasn't working for Stiles. Scott had learned to be his own anchor, however, before that it had been..."Allison. That's it." Stiles voiced his sudden realisation, speaking to the empty space around him. Taking a deep breath, he focussed on the thing that had kept him grounded over the past month. The person who had always been the focus of his attention, who had been the centre of his world since the third grade. "Lydia. Lydia Martin. Fair skinned, strawberry blonde, amazing green eyes, five foot three, amazing kisser, super smart, kind, funny, the best laugh I've ever heard, loyal and brave. Lydia Martin. Releasing his breath he spared a glance at his reflection once more. He was back to normal, or as normal as he could be under the circumstances.

Lydia whipped around, tearing her gaze from the chaotic investigation board and setting it on her friends. "Did one of you just say something?" They all looked at each other in surprise, shaking their heads in unison. Frowning, she turned back to the board, "I could have sworn..." She trailed off at the end of her sentence, trying to shake the strange feeling she was getting. But there it was again, a voice that sounded distant yet wonderfully familiar.

" _-laugh I've ever heard, loyal and brave. Lydia Martin."_ Stiles' voice came to a halt, and she was left in brooding silence once more.

"Stiles" talking to herself more than anyone else, she allowed herself a small smile. Her happy thoughts and reminiscing were interrupted by Liam, speaking cautiously from the safety of the bed:

"Lydia? Did you hear something?"

Frowning she stared at him, still not forgiving him for biting Stiles, "Oh apart from Stiles screaming in pain you mean?" When she saw the crestfallen look on the boy's face she felt bad. It wasn't his fault, he had no idea what Stiles was going to do. "I'm sorry. Yes, I heard him talking, about- about me."

Kira sighed, "Lydia that's sweet and all, but it doesn't really help us figure out how to take these guys down."

Perking up, Mason held up his finger, face plastered with excitement, "Well hold on, maybe it can!"

The boy's best friend shook his head in exasperation, "Mason what are you talking about?" Liam had clearly had more than enough of his friends crazed theories about the supernatural."

Mason seemed completely oblivious to this as he jumped up, approaching Lydia with great excitement. "Maybe you can use your connection, harness the power or something, to be able to talk to Stiles. Maybe even see him. There might be something he can tell you to help us take them down. Plus, I'm sure seeing you would do a lot to lift his spirits." Mason ended his statement by placing a gentle hand on Lydia's shoulder, smiling kindly at her. She studied him for a moment, clearly unsure of whether to be grateful or to snap at him. Her gaze slid over to Scott, who simply shrugged saying:

"It's worth a shot. Best plan we have so far."

Turning her gaze back to Mason, she nodded, "Okay, I'll try."

Mason positively glowed with excitement, "Great! Okay so just sit down on the bed, uhm, try focusing on Stiles. Or maybe the Dread Doctors? Oooh maybe you should think about the Hale House!"

Seeing the dangerous look on Lydia's face, Kira jumped in to save Mason, "Maaaaybe we should just leave her to it. Why don't we all go downstairs and have a snack break. _Come on_ guys." She literally shoved them out of the door, giving Lydia an encouraging smile before closing the door, leaving her along in the room.

With a sigh, Lydia closed her eyes, trying to focus on Stiles. Sitting in silence for what felt like forever, she began to grow frustrated. Eventually she groaned, opening her eyes and standing up. "Come _on_ Lydia, you can do this. Do it for Stiles." Taking her time she walked over to the window, opening it she took a deep breath of fresh air. "Stiles. Tall, skinny, weird Stiles. Stiles with the amazing amber eyes, who is the smartest guy I know. Stiles who listens to me and cares about me, who isn't afraid to call me out on my bullshit. Kind, protective, loyal Stiles. He's hilarious and exciting and handsome and I love him." Finishing her sentiment, she moved to close the window, feeling very foolish. However, just before she closed the latch, a familiar voice reached her ears.

" You really think I'm handsome?"

Spinning around she called out, "Stiles?! Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, now about that handsome thing-"

"You are such an IDIOT! How could you go down there alone? Why didn't you wait for the rest of us? Why didn't you _tell me_?!"

"Woah woah, Lydia! Calm down!"

"Don't tell me to be calm Stilinski! They could have killed you for God's sake."

His tone softened, and he laughed slightly, "Yeah, but I didn't. So really everything's fine, right?"

She rolled her eyes, "That is even worse than _my_ logic, Stiles."

"Yeah I know, I know. It's really not so bad here though. I think these doctor guys are actually starting to like me!" His voice was full of forced enthusiasm, he was trying way too hard to sound hopeful and normal.

"Stiles you are just, like, _the_ worst liar ever. We're connected Stiles, I can hear it when you're screaming. I can feel that you're in pain. And it kills me that I can't do anything to make it stop." Her statement was met with a long silence. Concerned, she called out, "Stiles, are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Lydia I want you to know something. This is all worth it. The pain, the solitude, hell even the rats. It's all worth it so long as it keeps you and Scott and everyone else safe. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." As he spoke, tears began to roll down her cheeks. "Man I forgot how beautiful you looked when you cry."

Gasping in surprise, she opened her eyes. The sight she was met with was shocking to say the least. Dark and dripping, the room was filled with all sorts of strange equipment, and in the middle of it all lay Stiles strapped to an uncomfortable looking bed. He grinned at her and she ran forwards, holding his hand and cupping his face. "Oh my god Stiles, what have they done to you?"

Sniffing, he croaked out, "What, this? 'Tis nothing but a flesh wound!"

Lydia laughed, which warmed Stiles's heart. In turn, he grinned, staring up at her face. Gently, she wiped a smudge of dirt from his forehead, before leaning down to kiss him. When she pulled back, his eyes were closed, contented grin spreading across his face. Kneeling down next to his head she held his hand with both of hers. "Stiles?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is there anything at all that you can tell me that can help us take these guys down? Anything at all?"

Staring at her, he thought for a moment, "Not really. I hardly ever see them, it's like clockwork. They come in, do a few tests, they leave. Just like that every few hours or something. Most of the time I'm slightly pre-occupied, so I haven't really noticed any weak-" he stopped mid sentence, staring at a point behind Lydia, "-spots. Hey Lyds, go take a look over there, see that big box with all the buttons?"

Rushing towards it she called out to him, "Yeah, what about it?"

"The third one's always hanging around beside it, like he's guarding it or something. I think something in their suits is what keeps them alive. Maybe that control panel has a way to turn them off?" He watched as she examined it. After a few minutes, she turned back to him, smile stretching her lips wide. Curious and excited, Stiles interrogated her, "What? Lydia what is it? Can you do it? What?"

"Stiles. You are a genius. I think I know how we can do this. All we need to do is-" before she could compete her sentence, she disappeared. In a sudden panic, Stiles called out for her:

"Lydia?! LYDIA! Come _on!"_ He pulled against his restraints once more, desperate to find out where she had gone. Calling out to the doctors this time, Stiles flung threats at them. "I swear to god if you touch her! I'll kill you if you hurt her! You can't do this, we have a deal!"

Meanwhile, Mason was profusely apologising to a fuming Lydia. He had snuck into the room, hoping to see her banshee powers in action. When he had closed the door, her vision had been interrupted, dragging her back to the real world. The second she had spotted him she rounded on him, yelling at him about privacy and needing space and how he had almost ruined the whole thing. Clinging to a tiny scrap of hope, Mason spoke up, "Almost ruined?"

"What?" Snapped Lydia.

Gaining confidence, Mason returned to his bouncy self, "You said almost, which means I didn't ruin everything, which means that you found something out, which _means_..." he bounced slightly where he stood, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she answered, "Which means, I know what we have to do."


	14. The Code

Lydia stared at her reflection in the mirror. The string of fairy lights that ran around it lit her face, making her look almost angelic. Makeup pristine as always, she still couldn't help but frown. Something wasn't right. Something was missing. Leaning in closer, she inspected her features, trying to figure out what was missing. It wasn't her eyeliner or her mascara, her lips were painted a bright shade of red, so what was it? No matter how hard she thought, she couldn't understand what was missing from her appearance. With a defeated sigh, she slouched back in her chair, abandoning her perfect posture. The movement shook the whole cabinet, causing a delicate chain to swing precariously from its position hanging on the edge of the mirror. Forehead crinkled, she leant forwards, taking it gently into her hands. She had almost completely forgotten about it. The simple chain used to be worn around her neck at all times, as it carried one of her dearest possessions on it. Jackson's house key. Seeing the little silver chain now brought back a flood of memories from two years ago. Back when Jackson still lived in Beacon Hills, when he suddenly changed and their relationship fell to pieces. Of course, the fact that he had turned into a homicidal lizard man hadn't helped, but their relationship was crumbling anyway. The key she constantly wore around her neck had ended up saving his life when she had returned it to him.

Since then, the little chain had been set aside. With no key to hold, it didn't seem so important, so it hung from the corner of her mirror, disappearing into the back ground. Staring at the pile of chain nestled in her palm, she realised what had been missing. Stretching around in her chair, she reached for her handbag. Hoisting it up onto her knee she dove in, rummaging for a few moments before she found what she was looking for. Smiling triumphantly she held up a simple silver key. The curved edge glinted in the light from her mirror, creating a sparkle in Lydia's eyes. Setting her bag back on the ground, she placed the two items on the table in front of her. Two precious things. The key to the house of the person she loved, and the chain that had been with her as long as she could remember, it had been a gift from her grandmother. Dainty fingers moving quickly, she picked up Stiles' key, holding it close to her face before threading the chain through it with ease. Letting the key fall to the middle of the chain, she grinned approvingly. After clasping the chain around her neck, she glanced at her reflection once more. Yes, this was right. Now she felt complete.

Her happy silence was broken by a gentle knock on her bedroom door. Turning around she spotted her mother hovering in the doorway. Although she looked exhausted, the woman still managed to have a kindly smile on her face at all times. Lydia stood up, walking across the room and pulling her mom into a tight embrace. Shocked at the sudden affection, she sputtered happily, "Lydia? What's wrong? Are you alright honey?"

Stepping back, Lydia beamed, "No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to say that I love you, that's all."

Shocked, Ms Martin replied, "Well- I love you too sweetheart," the woman looked her daughter up and down, only now noticing her unusual choice of clothing, "are you doing something tonight?"

Lydia cast a glance back into her mirror. Granted, the combat boots, leggings, loose top and leather jacket weren't her usual style. But they served a purpose tonight. Thinking on her feet, the girl put on an innocent smile. "Oh yes, I'm going over to Kira's to study for AP Biology. She was saying it was quite muddy around her house, so I thought I should be prepared." At the end of her sentence she displayed her footwear with an elegant leg flick.

He mom looked unconvinced, but nodded along anyway. "Alright then. Are you going to be staying over? Or should I wait up?"

Adding to the lie, Lydia pressed on, "Oh no, don't wait up. I might actually stay the whole weekend, we have a lot of work to do." Before her mom could ask her any more questions, Lydia pulled her into another quick hug before rushing out of the door, calling a hasty "Love you!" over her shoulder as she went. Once she was out of the house and sitting in her car, she allowed herself a moment to calm down. She hated lying to her mom, but it seemed to have become a regular occurrence these days. Staring at the handbag now resting on the passenger seat, she decided to take one last look inside, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything. As she rummaged, she worked her way through her mental checklist:

 _Rope?_

 _Check_

 _Knife?_

 _Check, although what good is that going to do?_

 _Radio?_

 _Yup_

 _Phone?_

 _Gotcha_

 _Mini-Crossbow?_

 _There it is, Alison would be proud._

 _And last but not least, Stiles' pillow?_

Looking behind her to the back seat she saw the pillow and smiled, "Check."

"Check what?" Liam's voice appeared right next to her. Screaming in shock, Lydia punched him in the face. Groaning he massaged his chin. "Hey, what was that for?"

Still attempting to calm her heart rate, Lydia gaped at him. "Liam, you can't just go sneaking up on people and surprising them! It's a natural reaction to defend yourself if you get scared!"

Frowning he muttered under his breath, "Yeah, that's what Hayden said too."

Raising an eyebrow, Lydia laughed slightly, "What did you do to Hayden?"

Liam rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, looking down at his lap as he spoke, "I uh, I was trying to prove that everything I told her about the supernatural world was true right? So she wouldn't give me a chance to explain, and she was about to leave and I got desperate, so I changed in front of her. And she punched me in the face."

A laugh escaped her before she could help herself. Doing her best to cover it up, she stared at her friend, "She punched you, just for that?"

"Well, not exactly. I might have also roared in her face." He glanced up at Lydia, and when he saw that she was laughing, became very defensive, "Hey hold on! That's not funny! I got punched in the face! Twice!"

"Yes, and no wonder if you will keep scaring people like that! Honestly Liam." Lydia shook her head before turning on the car. Liam buckled his seatbelt, looking out his window eagerly. _At least someone's excited for tonight_ she thought. If she was honest with herself, there was a small part of her that was excited to jump back into the action. But for the most part, she was being consumed by the terrible fear that something awful was going to happen. It had been eating away at her for the past three days, ever since they started formulating the plan to save Stiles and take down the Dread Doctors. The event was hauntingly familiar to the time when the Nogitsune was wreaking havoc in Beacon Hills. Back then, everyone had rallied together to save _her_ , and it had resulted in the death of her dearest friend Alison. The fear that something similar was going to happen again was almost too much to bare.

Caught up in her own thoughts, she would have missed the turn off had Liam not jabbed her in the shoulder. "Hey Lydia, are you alright?"

Glancing at him, she bit her lip before putting on her trademark smile, "I'm fine, don't worry."

Narrowing his eyes at her, he pushed her for proper answers, "Lydia I can tell that's not true. I can hear your heart beat remember? Not to mention smelling your emotions. Boy can I tell you, this car reeks of-"

"Liam!" She snapped at him, "Now is _not_ the time to comment on my emotional state, or the smell of my car, okay?"

Hurt expression on his face, he returned to staring out of the window, "Alright, I was just trying to help."

Feeling like she had just kicked a puppy, Lydia groaned with guilt, "Liam I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted. You're right I'm not okay. I'm scared."

Liam nodded, "I know. I am too."

Taking her eyes off of the road momentarily, she stared at him, "You are?"

He looked at her, expression genuine, "Yeah. Last time we did something like this, we were fighting the berserkers, and that messed me up for months. I'm afraid that something'll happen, and I'll be too scared or too weak to save anyone. What if Scott gets in trouble and I can't help him? What if one of them hurts Stiles before we can save him? What if the attack _me_ and I can't defend myself? What if-"

Pulling up outside of Scott's house, Lydia interrupted him. Turning in her seat she grabbed his hand, looking at him earnestly. "Liam, it's good to be afraid. It stops you from getting to reckless. But maybe you need to stop worrying about what if, and start thinking about what really matters." When he stared at her blankly, she rolled her eyes before continuing, "What matters is that we're doing this to save Stiles. The whole pack knows what they're risking, but they're happy to do it because a member of their pack is in danger. That's what we do. Whenever I'm too scared or I don't think I'm strong enough, I remember something someone amazing once said."

"What's that?"

"We protect those who cannot protect themselves. That's the code Alison lived by, and it's the code I try to stay true to. Stiles is alone down there, and he has no way of protecting himself. So it's up to us to save him. But if anyone gets in trouble down there, the same applies for them. We aren't letting _anyone_ get hurt. And that includes you." She squeezed his hand gently before letting go, climbing out of the car and waiting for him. For a moment, he sat in stunned silence in the passenger seat, her inspiring words stewing in his brain. Finally, he pulled himself together, jumping out of the car and walking side by side with Lydia up to Scott's door.

Cautious of overstepping any boundaries, Liam tentatively spoke up. "Alison sounded like she was an amazing person, I wish I could've met her."

Lydia looked at him, sad smile pulling at her lips. After a moment of morose silence she nodded, "She was. You two would have gotten on really well."

Liam's voice perked up, "Really?"

Chuckling, Lydia responded, "Yeah, I think so."

They came to a halt outside the front door of the McCall household, and just before he knocked, Liam turned to Lydia, "Thanks."

Nodding silently she smiled at him, glad to have put him slightly more at ease. Truthfully, remembering Alison's code had done wonders to calm her down too. She just kept repeating the mantra in her head. _Protect those who cannot protect themselves_. Liam knocked and barely two seconds later Scott swung the door open. Glancing behind him, Lydia saw Kira standing awkwardly in the hall, glancing frequently into the living room. The expression on her face told Lydia something was up, something she was most likely _not_ going to be happy about. Shifting her gaze back to Scott, Lydia scrutinised him. His eyes were shifting about nervously, and he wore an over exaggerated smile. "Scott, what's going on?" Lydia spoke with precision, careful to keep her voice calm.

Before the Alpha could reply, someone shouted from the living room. "Who is that? Is that _her?_ Let me talk to her!" The shouts were followed by a clatter, and then scuffled movements in the hall. Kira struggled against someone for a moment, until they eventually won over. Within seconds Malia was tearing down the hall, murderous glint in her eyes. Scott only just managed to grab her before she reached Lydia. Even so, she struggled against his grip, claws outstretched. " _You!_ " Her eyes were glowing blue and her teeth were sharp and dangerous. "What? You think you can just waltz in and steal him from me?! I thought you were my friend! But you liked him all along didn't you! I can't believe I trusted you!" With each word she lashed out towards Lydia, doing her best to reach her.

Taken aback, the Banshee glared at her. If looks could kill, Lydia Martin would be a mass murderer by now. Her stare was venomous, her newfound distaste for Malia now boring into the girls skin. "You can't believe _you_ trusted _me?_ I actually thought you had changed, that you were a normal person! But _clearly_ that isn't true, considering you murdered your boyfriend- oh wait, ex-boyfriend's father!" Each word was laced with malice. Lydia had not come here tonight to be called a traitor by the very person who had caused all of this mess in the first place. Now that she had started, she found she couldn't stop. "What? Did you think you could just go running back to Stiles after this was all over and he'd just forgive you? He _needed_ someone there Malia, where were you? Hiding, off somewhere in a bad mood because he shouted at you? I stayed with him, I looked after him. This past month I've been more of a girlfriend to him than you've ever been. Just because I care about more than just sex and hormones! I love the _person_ that he is. Can you say that? Do you even know what his _actual_ name is? NO? I DIDNT THINK SO!"

Liam was now having to hold Lydia back as she did her best to advance on Malia. Although she didn't have claws or fangs, he was still pretty sure she could cause some major damage. In an attempt to ease the tension Scott spoke up, "Actually, I don't know his real name either." Both girls glared at him, silencing him in an instant.

Turning back to Malia, Lydia spoke, voice dangerously quiet. "I'm not going to stop you from being here. Hell we could use the help saving Stiles. We all care about him, that much is clear, so if you can agree to get along with me, then that's fine with me. BUT- if you _dare_ call me a traitor, or a bad friend, or suggest that I don't care about that boy, then I am going to make you wish you never became human again. Are we understood?" The tension in the air was palpable, and everyone was on edge, waiting for Malia's response.

The coyote had returned to her human form, staring in shock at the fuming girl in front of her. Looking rather taken aback, almost impressed, she finally spoke up. "Lydia, I'm so sorry. You're right, of course you're right. I've been a really _terrible_ girlfriend, and Stiles deserves much better. I just got so _jealous_ and then when I found out that you two were 'in love' I just got so mad that you could make him feel something that I never could. I know what I did was wrong and stupid-" she was addressing the whole group now, "-and believe me, I regret it. You don't need to let me back in the pack, but you have to let me help you save Stiles. Because I still care about him. I care about all of you, and I want to protect you." As she finished speaking, Malia's eyes rested on Lydia, full of an unspoken apology. Lydia nodded in response, not quite forgiving the girl for her actions, but certainly ready to accept her help.

Ever cheerful, Liam spoke up, holding out his hand for Malia to shake whilst glancing sideways at Lydia, "We protect those who cannot protect themselves." The banshee broke into a teary smile, heart melting and regret at her harsh words sticking in her throat. She threw her arms around Malia, pulling her into a tight hug. The coyote hugged her back gladly, and they whispered to each other, making amends.

Meanwhile, Scott had taken Liam off to the side, staring at him in shock. "Where did you hear that?"

Smiling proudly Liam responded, "I just heard that someone great once said it, that's all. It seemed appropriate." And with that the boy winked before walking into the house, leaving Scott standing alone in a mixture of shock, pride, sadness and nostalgia. Such a strange combination started to give him a headache, so he quickly shook it off, clearing his mind for the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, he walked back into the house, and they put Plan H into action.


	15. The Powers

Ever since his fleeting encounter with Lydia, Stiles had been plotting a way to escape the Dread Doctors. The thought that she might be in danger was eating away at him, and he couldn't handle it. If they harmed her in any way, all hell was going to break loose. To prevent that happening, he had begun to fashion a plan to break free from his captors and rescue her. Every moment he had to himself, when the Doctors weren't performing some painful experiment on him, had been spent formulating this plan. Now he was just waiting for the gaping wound in his side to heal. The doctors had conducted one of their many biopsies on him earlier that day, cutting deep into his side and inspecting some of his vital organs. Not a pleasant memory.

Glancing down at his side, he urged his wound to heal faster. Every second he wasted healing, Lydia could be getting hurt. Painfully slowly, the wound finally finished knitting itself together, leaving nothing but a rapidly fading red mark in its place. _Alright_ thought Stiles, _here we go, now or never._ Now that he had gained minimal control over his new powers, he managed to grow his fangs on command. Running his tongue along the razor sharp edges, he held his breath, preparing for what he was about to do. Screwing up his face in determination, he bit down hard on his tongue. Instantaneously his mouth filled with the metallic taste of his own blood. Forcing himself not to cry out, he bit harder. When his mouth was absolutely full, he began the act.

Knowing the doctors would be watching, Stiles began to convulse violently in his restraints. Simultaneously, he began coughing and spluttering, sending spatters of blood flying onto the floor and machinery around him. Acting quickly, the doctors appeared around him, taking registers of his condition. With wild eyes he stared up at them, gaze flicking from one to the next and then to the last before moving back and starting again. By now, the blood was just leaking out of his mouth in a disgusting froth, running down his neck and pooling on the bed.

Giving one final twitch and taking a shuddering breath, Stiles went limp, head lolling to the side, eyes shut tight. He could hear the panic of the doctors through the way they moved. His heightened senses let him know that they were all studying his body, trying to figure out what had happened. After a few moments filled with only the mechanical clicks of their suits, the leader spoke up. "Specimen deteriorates. Condition terminal."

The two words Stiles had been both dreading and hoping for at the same time. Before they had killed Tracy and Lucas, that had been what the creatures had said. Now it was his turn. His plan was highly risky, and totally depended on how the doctors acted in this situation, but if it helped Lydia he didn't care. Hearing the smooth sliding of the mechanical suits, he knew one of them had the needle at the ready. Panic began to set in, his plan wasn't working. He had hoped that the doctors would undo his bindings before killing him, giving him the chance to act. However, the cuffs remained steadfast against his skin. _Crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap._ His thoughts dissolved into pure chaos as his doom drew closer and closer.

Icy cold and painfully sharp, the needle touched the skin of his neck. Desperately, he tried to speak, to convince them he was worth keeping, but he found his tongue had not yet healed properly, rendering him speechless. _This is it._ He thought, _I'm gonna die, all alone. And that means the pack's in danger again. God I'm so STUPID._ Wincing in pain as the needle dug into his flesh, he opened his eyes. If he was going to die here, he was going to look at the man doing it. Stare him down and make him watch as the life went out of his eyes. Of course, these creatures probably wouldn't care, but it meant something to him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw one of the Doctors begin to slowly push the plunger on the needle, forcing the lethal drug into his body. It had a very strange effect. He had expected pain, however, for the first time since he had been with the Doctors, the pain stopped. The numb feeling started in his neck, quickly spreading to his shoulders, making its way towards his heart. Somewhere in his mind, distant and useless, he registered that that would be a bad thing, that it would kill him. He found he couldn't bring himself to care. All of his thoughts were becoming murky, dissolving into the growing dark space that his mind was becoming. Staring now at the needle, he watched as the plunger met the half way point.

Vaguely he registered new sounds in the background, someone might be shouting, but he couldn't tell. Warmth was spreading across him, as though he were floating in a large bath. Considering he was dying, it was a very pleasant experience, one he just wanted to sink into. Looking up, he noticed that two of the doctors had disappeared, the third looking torn between Stiles and something else. Perhaps he would have found that odd, if he hadn't been retreating further into that delightful warm numbness. The third doctor was no longer pushing the plunger, leaving it stationary halfway down the syringe. Oddly, Stiles found himself wishing that he would continue, so that he could disappear completely into the pleasant dark nothingness.

Angry whirrs and yells reached his ears, and Stiles frowned groggily as the third doctor abandoned him completely, leaving the needle hanging out of his neck. Straining himself, he managed to lift his heavy head to inspect the rest of the room. To his surprise, it was full of people, all moving far too fast for his lethargic gaze to keep up with. He saw someone turn to him, yelling his name desperately. The vague outline told him it could have been Scott, but he found that he didn't really care. All he wanted to do was rest his head, close his eyes, and sleep.

Blinking slowly at the figure, who was still fighting with the Doctors, Stiles eventually gave into the desire, letting his head sink back, eyes sliding shut. The sounds of battle were rapidly fading, leaving nothing but a dull buzz in his ears. Eventually that even faded to silence, and he found himself alone in the cosy darkness. Content, he hung in limbo until something tore through the quiet, ripping him back to reality. A clear, terrified, heart wrenching sound that somehow made it through the thick fog of death and into his mind. Of all the shouts and cries of battle, this noise was the only thing he could hear clearly. "STILES!" Lydia. It was Lydia, she was crying, shouting his name again and again.

Something inside him clicked, suddenly he had the urge to keep fighting, to resist the toxins being pumped through his body. Feelings beginning to return to him, he was vaguely aware of the needle being removed from his neck. What he really felt, the thing that made his eyes shoot open, and his lungs take a much needed gasp of air, was the feeling of two warm hands on his face. Lydia's hands. Eyes now wide open, he stared at her, panic returning as he remembered the danger of the situation. Trying desperately to speak, his words came out slurred and messy, "Lylylyyyyd- d- dia? Did theyyyy huuur-hurt-t you?" He felt as though his brain were surrounded by cotton wool, unable to tell his body what to do. However, he was present enough to see the relieved smile on her worried face.

A small laugh even escaped her as she responded, "No Stiles, no I'm fine. Oh thank God you're okay! I thought I'd lost you!"

Smiling weakly he mumbled, "Wha? Nev-neverrrrr"

Laughing with relief, she leant down, kissing his forehead affectionately. The contact seemed to cleanse his body of the poison that had been affecting him so badly. All of a sudden, he felt totally aware of everything that was happening. He no longer felt lethargic and numb, in fact, all of his previous pain had returned with a jolting pop. It served the purpose of waking him up, making him highly alert and aware of the fighting still going on in front of them. Fear filled his eyes as he saw all of his friends battling for their lives against the Dread Doctors. Absentmindedly he began struggling against his restraints once more, desperate to get out and help them. Looking on helplessly, he saw one Doctor taking on Liam and Scott, Malia and Kira were both lying crumpled on the floor. Confused, he scanned the fight. _Where are the other two?_ Turning to Lydia he voiced his concerns, "Hey Lyds, where-"

His sentence was interrupted by large metal hands grabbing him and dragging him from the table. Fear erupted inside of him, causing a flurry of shouting to escape him. "NO NO WAIT! PLEASE JUST WAIT! LET GO OF ME! JUST LET ME GO! NOOOOO!" He thrashed and flailed wildly against the Doctor who was now dragging him away from his friends, from his chance of being saved. During his struggles he saw Lydia being corralled back towards his friends by the second doctor. She was doing her best to reach him, his terrified screams tearing at her heart. However the Doctor simply pushed her back, away from Stiles as he was dragged away.

Lydia watched desperately as Stiles was dragged away from her. Listened as he screamed and called out for help. She felt so useless, so defenceless and frustrated that she couldn't save him. However, when she saw the Doctor holding Stiles produce a blade, holding it to the boys throat, something primal clicked inside of her. The threat to his life had stilled Stiles, and he let himself get taken further and further away, tears running down his terrified face. Lydia however, had sprung into action. She didn't know what made her do it, or how she managed it, but she turned a deadly gaze to the doctor in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she yelled, shoving his chest as she did so. The creature was knocked back by some invisible force, causing him to take a few stumbling steps away from her. Staring at her hands in shock, she started connecting the pieces in her mind. Meanwhile, the doctor was advancing towards her, arm outstretched. He grabbed her, forcing her backwards much more aggressively this time. Refusing to be tamed, she screamed at him, "LET ME GO!" and on the final word she shoved him with all her strength. Once again, some invisible power hit him, only this time it sent him flying backwards, crashing into some strange human sized test tube.

Not allowing herself time to process what she had done, Lydia turned back to where Stiles had been. To her dismay, he and the doctor had both disappeared down some dark sewer path. Abandoning her caution and fears, she ran after them, casting off her heels so that she could move faster. Sprinting, she tore down the slimy passageway, following the sound of Stiles' voice. He was trying to reason with the Doctor, voice thick with fear: "Please, you don't have to do this. Why are you doing this? Just let me go, you studied my change what more do you want from me? Please just let me go." Lydia could almost hear the tears as he spoke. She wasn't sure she had ever heard him being so afraid, and it only served as fuel for the instinctual power building up inside of her. Rounding the corner she spotted the pair she had been chasing. The Dread Doctor was pinning Stiles against the wall of the sewer whilst its head was turned to look directly at Lydia. Following it's gaze, Stiles saw her and began begging her to leave, "Lydia no, no please go it's not safe, he'll hurt you." He paused, and she saw a mental battle going on inside his head. After a couple of seconds, he seemed to have come to a decision which left fear and misery written across his features. But he still called out to her, "Leave me. Lydia, I'm asking you to leave me here. Leave me before he hurts you." His voice was shaking and his terror was obvious.

Shaking her head, Lydia took a step forwards, "Not a chance Stilinski."

Openly crying now, Stiles shouted, "Please Lydia just go! Get out of here!"

"Stiles, I am NOT leaving you here!" When she raised her voice in the middle of her sentence, a pulse of energy seemed to radiate off of her, travelling down the sewer before buffeting Stiles and the Doctor. Confused, they both stared at her, Stiles blinking in shock.

"Lydia?" he spoke to her cautiously.

"I REFUSE to go home and leave you HERE all ALONE." She was now marching forwards, and with each word she emphasised, another wave of energy flew off of her, hitting the other pair with growing force. Letting go of Stiles, who fell to the floor in a heap, the Doctor stepped into the centre of the hallway, facing Lydia squarely.

It spoke with an almost patronising lilt to its deep ticking voice, "The Banshee finally found its powers. Interesting. Does the Banshee know how to use them?" With lightning speed, the creature raised its arm, firing an arrow from a strange contraption on the arm of its suit. It went speeding towards Lydia, and Stiles shouted a warning as it flew towards her. Eyes widening, Lydia yelped in shock, instinct causing her hands to fly up in front of her face. She felt a tingle of an almost electric power in her palms, and looked just in time to see the arrow being buffeted off course by another wave of energy that she had seemingly created.

Turning slowly in the dark corridor, she stared at the doctor, who was standing in calculating silence. To the doctor, she looked angry, but to Stiles, she looked positively deadly. Looking at the expression on her face, he saw all the years of frustration at not knowing how to use her power coming to the surface. He could also see all the rage she had for the doctors, all of the pent up aggression that she never let out. Determination set the image like stone on her features, and she began walking quickly towards the creature, hands held like weapons at her sides. Knowing better than to interfere, Stiles used his small amounts of energy to crawl along the sewer floor in Lydia's direction, being sure to keep out of her way. She passed him when they were three feet from the lead Dread Doctor, and he twisted his body to watch what was about to happen. She began shouting out a list of names, and Stiles realised she was reciting the names of everyone the Doctors had killed. With each name, a hot wave of power pulsed off of her, brushing past Stiles and hitting the Doctor with full force. "This is for Tracy, and Lucas, and Josh, and John Stilinski, for Malia's mom, and for Stiles Stilinski!"

As she called out Stiles' name, Lydia grabbed the Doctor throwing him against the wall of the sewer with great force. When he made contact with the hard stone walls, something on his mask shattered. What followed was an almost pitiful sound as the Doctor gasped and wheezed for breath. The creature was clawing at his mask, trying desperately to fix whatever had caused the catastrophic failure of his breathing apparatus. Kneeling down in front of the doctor, Lydia watched him for a moment before pulling his arm away from his face. Reaching up to the fractured set of tubes at his neck, she leant in so that her mouth was right beside where his ears should be. "And this one's for me." And at that she pulled on the tubes with all her strength, tearing them from the mask, shattering one completely in the process. The Doctor gave one last panicked wheeze before it fell limp, silently sliding down the sewer wall.

Stepping backwards, she realised what she had done. She had just killed someone. Disgusted, she stared at her hands, rubbing them on her skirt as though she could wipe away her actions. Her freak out was interrupted by Stiles' voice echoing around the sewer. "Lydia? Lydia it's okay, calm down." She looked up and found him hobbling towards her, arms outstretched to pull her into a warm hug. Cracking, she began to cry, throwing herself at her friend. He held her tightly, doing his best to comfort her, "Shh, it's okay Lydia, shh it's alright."

"No its not. I killed him Stiles. I don't know what I was thinking! I just killed a man." She sobbed into his chest.

Stiles sighed, holding her at arm's length from him, staring into her eyes. When he spoke it was with a very serious, but very sincere tone of voice. "Lydia, listen. That thing killed so many people, and hurt so many more. He was going to kill me, and you, and all of our friends. That wasn't a person anymore, it was just a machine. You saved us Lydia. You saved me."

Sniffing she gazed at him with her watery green eyes. Finding solace in his gentle expression, she smiled, pulling his arm over her shoulder. "Come on, let's get you home." She said as she guided him back down the hall. Grateful for her help, he leaned heavily on her until they reached the main room once more. When they arrived, they were met with a messy scene. The box that Stiles had pointed out to Lydia before was smashed and sparking, wires hanging out at all angles. The two remaining Doctors lay motionless on the floor, masks smoking slightly. At first, Stiles was relieved, but then he saw the looks on everyone's faces. Then, he saw the body.


	16. The Return

Stiles' vision zoomed in on the motionless figure, sending the rest of the room into a non-distinct blur. Letting go of Lydia he stumbled forwards towards the scene. Scott was kneeling next to the body, panic and fear pouring out of him. Stiles could actually _smell_ it. Kira stepped out of the way, hand covering her mouth as she tried not to cry. Falling to his knees across the body from Scott, Stiles ran his hand through his hair. "No no no. How did this happen?" Looking up to his friend, Stiles saw nothing but sorrow and confusion there. "Scott? What happened?" Clearly in shock, the alpha found it impossible to respond, he simply stared at Stiles before looking down at the body once more. Before he could hassle him any further, Lydia spotted who was sprawled out on the cold stone floor.

Stiles could have sworn her heard her heart breaking. Turning just in time to see her face crack into a horrified sob, he felt absolutely helpless once more. Rushing forwards, she crashed to her knees, and Stiles hastily got out of her way. Tears falling from her face and onto the body she sobbed. Each breath hitched in her lungs, jolting her ribcage this way and that as she wailed in sorrow. Desperately she grabbed the shoulders, shaking them against the floor, trying to illicit a response. Doing his best not to break down, Stiles held out a hand, touching Lydia's shoulder gently. "Lydia, it's no use-"

Crazed, she turned to him, hair whipping around before falling over her tear stained face. Her eyes were wild, primal, tearing into him with no restraint. "I promised him!" she yelled, staring miserably at Stiles. "I promised him he wouldn't get hurt!" Turning back to the body, she took the hand, squeezing it with her own. "I'm so sorry, Liam I'm so so sorry. I should have been here, I should have protected you!" Looking up, she rounded on Scott. "Where _were_ you? You should have saved him! What happened?" At the end of her sentence she broke into sobs once more, not caring that Scott was clearly hurt by her words.

Tripping over his response, Scott tried to explain. "I-I- I don't know. We were all fighting, I turned away for a second, just to hit one of them. Next thing I knew they were falling to the ground. Then I heard Malia scream, and I looked around and- and-"

Stepping in, Kira helped him finish, "And Liam was lying there. The control box was totally destroyed. He must have taken it out- but- but something went wrong and he- he..."

"Died." Stiles ended with a harrowing breath. Scott looked to his friend, pain clear in his eyes. This was the first and only werewolf he had created. Liam wasn't just his friend, they had a bond closer than family. What he was feeling right now was probably on par with how he felt with Alison, if not worse.

"No." Lydia shook her head slowly, denial setting in. "No he's not dead." Sniffing she looked up at the people around her, clinging to a desperate, foolish hope.

Quiet and gentle, Kira tried to console her, "Lydia, he's gone-"

"NO! He's _not_ dead! I didn't scream, that means he can't be. Right? Right Stiles?" Turning to face him, she pleaded with him, begging him to tell her she was right. "STILES?!"

Jumping slightly, Stiles stammered out, "I-I don't know. I can't hear a heartbeat. Scott?" The boy looked to his childhood friend.

Eyes red and puffy, Scott stood up, "No. Nothing."

At that, Lydia let out another heart wrenching sob, falling across Liam's body. She held his face in her hands, apologising over and over for not protecting him. Lydia Martin, who was well composed and hid her emotions at all times, broke down. Sobbing and snorting and wailing until her throat ached she sat with Liam's body, refusing to be pulled away. Head resting on the boy's chest, she shook, sobs sending shuddering spasms down her body. She was about to apologise again, but then she heard something. A sound so faint and quiet that she thought she might've imagined it. Even so, it sent a spark of hope to her heart, silencing her at once.

Snapping upright, she stared at the boy in front of her. Barely a whisper, she addressed the group. "He's not dead."

Kira frowned, "What?"

Speaking more clearly now, Lydia stood up. "He isn't dead. I heard his heat beat."

Stepping closer, Kira shook her head, "Lydia you can't have, he's-"

"I heard it too." Stiles and Malia spoke in unison, before glancing at each other in shock. Malia gave him a small smile, which he gladly reciprocated. The coyote turned to Scott, question clear in her movements.

The Alpha stared at Liam for a moment before looking up, face blank, but with eyes that betrayed the hope that was bubbling up inside of him. Breaking into a smile he said, "I heard it too."

Hands flying to her mouth, Lydia sobbed once more, only this time with relief. Turning to Stiles she beamed at him, and he pulled her into a joyful hug. Head poking up out of their embrace, he addressed the group, "So uh, he's alive. Now what? How do we save him?"

They all looked at each other for a few minutes, exchanging concerned glances in the dark gloomy sewer space. In the background, a steady flow of water was dripping from a shattered machine, creating a slowly spreading pool that was inching towards them with each drop. Listening to the rhythmic tap tap tap of the water, Scott was struck with an idea. It was so obvious, he could have kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. "Deaton! We can take him to Deaton!" Nodding and agreeing eagerly, the group set about picking up the boy's body, Scott and Stiles supporting it between them.

Watching the antics from the sideline, Kira spoke up, "I hate to be a downer, but isn't Deaton out of town?"

Scott visibly deflated, "Oh, yeah."

Stiles however, refused to be discouraged, "Alright, but, come on there's got to be something there that can help, a book, some potion, something! Scott you have a key right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Butt's are for sitting on Scott, now get a move on so we can save Liam!" Stiles reprimanded his friend for being so hesitant, beginning to pull Liam towards the exit. Nodding quickly Scott followed, the pair of them dragging Liam towards the outside world. Kira walked up ahead, making sure the way was clear for Liam. This left the werecoyote and the banshee alone at the back of the group. After their fight earlier, they had been getting on much better. All of their tension and resentment towards each other had been aired and dealt with, allowing them to be friendly once more.

Back at Scott's house, Malia had told them all what had happened when she was with the doctors. After she had agreed to help them, Malia had been taken to a separate room, kept there until she was required. When her mother had walked in, she had been delighted, ready to have a heart to heart and catch up on 17 missing years of mother daughter relations. However, the Desert Wolf had other ideas. Closing the door behind her, she had rounded on Malia, eyes glowing with claws outstretched. Frantically the girl had called out for help, before trying to reason with her mom. Backing up into the corner, she had almost forgotten that she had supernatural abilities, that she could fight back. Before she could scream, or ask why her mother was trying to kill her, the Doctors had appeared around them. Grabbing the desert wolf, they injected her with some sort of toxin, which killed her almost instantly. The sound of her mother's body falling to the ground was something she wouldn't soon forget.

Lydia hadn't said anything at the time, partly because she was so shocked, and partly because she was too focused on helping Stiles to care. Now however, she spoke up, nudging the girl gently as they walked. "I'm sorry about your mom."

Malia looked at her, carefully constructing the appropriate answer. Finally she sighed, saying, "My mom died in a car crash when I was a little girl. The Desert Wolf was just some crazy woman who wanted to kill me. I know who my real family are." Looking across at Lydia she smiled, trying to show that she was okay.

Looking ahead, Lydia nodded, "I'm glad you're okay. I'm just so sorry about how we treated you when you got back. You needed someone to talk to after everything you'd been through, and we just abandoned you."

Laughing quietly Malia disagreed, "No, I deserved it. I did a horrible thing and I wish I could take it back. I'm gonna have to deal with that forever, but maybe I can make up some of the damage I caused. Try and do what Stiles said at the funeral, you know? Keep his light going."

Shocked, Lydia stopped, "You were at the funeral? I never saw you."

Coming to a halt as well, Malia faced her friend. "That's because I didn't want to be seen. Stiles probably didn't want me there, and I didn't want to cause a scene, just pay my respects, and say that I was sorry."

Heart breaking for what must have been the tenth time that day, Lydia pulled Malia into a warm hug. Surprise froze Malia, and she stiffened as soon as the girl hugged her. Refusing to be denied, Lydia spoke up, "I'm not letting go till you hug me back."

Easing up

Malia laughed, squeezing Lydia tightly before they both let go and continued walking. It didn't take the group long to reach the surface. Once they had all climbed out, Liam was carefully deposited inside of Lydia's car. Before getting in, Lydia looked at the group, "There isn't enough room for everyone, someone needs to walk. I would but I need to drive."

Slowly raising his hand, Stiles cleared his throat, "I think I'm gonna walk, get some fresh air after being in _there_ for so long."

Scott looked up, speaking eagerly, "Yeah me too, I'll keep you company."

Frowning, Stiles stepped back, "Are you sure? I mean, don't you want to be there for Liam when they get to Deaton's?"

"Of course I do, but I want to walk back with you, if that's alright."

Shuffling his feet, Stiles murmured, "Yeah I guess, don't see why you'd want to, but that's fine." Not wanting to wait around in the awkward silence any longer, Stiles set off in the direction of home. Caught off guard, Scott had to jog to catch up to him.

"Stiles wait up." Slowing to a brisk walk he arrived at his friends side. "Stiles would you just wait a second?" Stiles pressed on in steadfast silence, ignoring his friends attempts to talk. Frustrated, Scott pulled on his shoulder, spinning him round to face him. "Stiles!"

"What?!" Shouting, Stiles hadn't even realised how angry he was. Everything he'd been through was to protect Scott, so why was he so mad at him now? It didn't make sense but he couldn't help it. Fuming, he glared at his friend, hands twitching slightly with unspent aggression. Taken aback, Scott retreated slightly, letting his hand drop to his side.

"I keep forgetting you're like me now. It's a full moon tonight, that's what's bothering you, right?"

Furious, Stiles yelled at him, "Oh yes! Because the only thing that could possibly be bothering me is the full moon! It's not like there's anything else wrong with me! All the _crap_ we've been through, no, that doesn't bother me at all! Watching the pack just carry on like nothing happened after the shit I went through, watching _you_ just carry on like it's fine, yeah no problems there!"

"Hit me." Scott stepped back.

Caught by surprise, Stiles froze mid rant, "What?"

Nodding, Scott encouraged him, "Hit me, it'll help."

"Scott I'm not gonna hit you."

"Come on, I know you want to. I deserve it, plus all that pent up aggression is just waiting to get ou-"

WHAM. Stiles punched Scott straight across the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. Flexing his fingers, Stiles stared at his friend, "Sorry."

"You feel better though, right?" Scott rotated his jaw, looking at Stiles proudly.

Realising that he no longer felt so infuriated, Stiles blinked, "Yeah. When did you learn that one?"

"Round about when Isaac told me he liked Alison." Scott grinned at him, and the pair burst into laughter. It felt good to be laughing properly again. Neither of them had had the opportunity in weeks, and now that they were, it was almost impossible to stop. Sighing happily, Scott clapped Stiles on the back, "So, I guess you're a werewolf now huh?"

"It would appear so, yeah." The concept was still strange in Stiles' mind. Him, a werewolf? It just didn't seem to make sense, he couldn't process it. He felt as though life had just gotten a hundred times more complicated, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Starting to move towards civilisation once more, the pair chatted about little meaningless things, making small talk. Finally, Stiles couldn't take it anymore, and he blurted out the question that had been nagging at him for weeks. "Are you gonna let me back in the pack? Like, where do we stand?"

"Stiles... I don't know..." Scott looked away and Stiles burst into a panic.

"What?! Come on Scott I-"

"I'm kidding!" Scott laughed at the stunned look on his friend's face. "Of course you're still a part of the pack. You always will be."

Mouthing silently for a moment, Stiles looked incredulously at him. Eventually he managed to clamp his jaw shut, squinting pointing accusingly at his friend. "I swear to god Scott, one of these days I'm gonna kill you." The smile on his face suggested otherwise.

Scott laughed, "Got your eyes on the alpha spot already? I'm quaking in my boots!"

Looking indignant, Stiles stood up slightly straighter, "And so you should be!" Then he remembered his previous conversation with Lydia. Stopping his friend, Stiles adopted a stern look, staring with mock accusation into his friend's eyes. "I have a bone to pick with you. What's this I hear about you telling people about the ten year plan?"

Scott's face jumped in shock, before breaking into a mischievous grin. Babbling out some sort of excuse, Scott looked off towards the town, "Oh wait, did you hear that? Someone's calling me. Gotta go!" And with that he raced off into the distance before Stiles had even registered his departure.

Shaking his head and laughing Stiles yelled after him, "Scott! I'll get you for this McCall!" And then he sped off after him, grin set on his face.


	17. The Clinic

**A/N: Hi guys, thank you for all your nice reviews and messages :) Here's another chapter, I hope you all enjoy it. If you have any questions about what's happening, suggestions or just want to say hi, please feel free to send me a message or leave a review and I'll get back to you :D Stay Classy, Icepoppy.**

With a great heave of effort, Lydia and Malia managed to lift Liam up onto the surgery table of the veterinary clinic. Looking at him was very unsettling, with his ghostly pale skin and blue tinged lips. He certainly looked dead. However, Malia confirmed that his heart was beating, just incredibly slowly. Had he been human, it wouldn't have been enough to keep him alive, but being a werewolf, and a strong one at that, Liam was somehow managing to survive. Lydia stood beside the table, gripping the boy's hand in her own. Desperately, she ordered the other two about, "Come on start looking!"

Kira nodded hastily, "What for?"

Waving her hands around, Lydia replied, "I don't know! A book, a herb, a potion, something!"

The other two girls both stared at Lydia, before glancing at each other. They seemed to make a mental agreement that it would be safer not to question Lydia any further, for fear she might yell at them. Kira started rooting through a set of drawers, while Malia stretched up, examining the higher cabinets for any sign of something useful. Amidst all of their rummaging, the sound of the front door opening was lost. However, they didn't miss the call coming from the waiting room. "Hello?" It was a man's voice, although he sounded fairly young. All three of them froze, staring at each other in horror.

Malia hissed quietly, "What do we do?"

"I don't know," Lydia grasped hopelessly for a solution, "someone has to go distract him!"

The voice called out again, "Is someone back there? Hello?"

Kira and Lydia both looked at Malia. Figuring out what they were implying, the girl shook her head fervently. "No, no guys I can't. You're kidding me right?" As she listed all the reasons she couldn't do it, whispering the whole time, Kira pushed her towards the door. Just before crossing the threshold, Malia spun around, a stressed look on her face, "What do I say?"

Refusing to make the man wait any longer, Kira just said, "Improvise" before shoving her friend out into the waiting room.

Stumbling slightly, Malia tumbled forwards into the room. Shooting upright, she regained her balance, over enthusiastic smile on her face. "Hi!" She was positively beaming, moving awkwardly in her attempts to be casual.

The man stared at her suspiciously, voice slow and cautious, "...hi."

Doing her best to look innocent, she leant against the counter between them. Unfortunately, the section she chose was in fact the hinge door that allowed her access to the rest of the room. Not pinned in place, it gave way beneath her weight, sending her sprawling forwards. Before she hit the ground, the customer had rushed forwards, catching her in his arms. Breathing heavily, she looked up. He had a sweet smile and pale blue eyes. Lifting her back to her feet, he checked her over, "Are you alright?"

Quickly she stepped back, putting plenty of space between them, "I'm fine. Can I help you with something?"

The boy laughed, running his hand through his dark blond hair as he inspected the bedraggled girl in front of him. "I'm actually here looking for Scott McCall. Do you know him?"

Suspicions instantly raised, Malia went on the defensive. "Maybe. How do you know him?"

Raising his eyebrows her responded, "I could ask you the same thing!" When she stared him down, refusing to respond, he sighed. "Let's just say I'm an old friend. Can we start again? Hi, I'm Isaac. And you are?"

Shocked Malia blurted out, " _Your_ Isaac. As in Isaac Lahey? Wow this is not how I pictured you at all."

Frowning he stared at her, "Excuse me? Why are you picturing me at all?"

Embarrassed, she cleared her throat. "Stiles told me about you a few times. I'm Malia, by the way."

Nodding thoughtfully, Isaac was just about to say something when Lydia stomped through the door. She was ready to berate Malia, but when she caught sight of Isaac she froze. Face lighting up, she ran to him, hugging him tightly, "Isaac! You never told us you were coming back!"

Laughing her hugged her back, "Hey Lydia. Yeah sorry for not calling ahead, I kinda forgot about that."

The happy reunion was interrupted when Scott and Stiles came crashing through the front door, both laughing and panting. When the caught sight of Isaac, confusion and delight spread across their faces. Scott walked forwards, beaming at him, "Isaac? How long have you been home?"

"Just a couple of hours actually. Good to see you, Scott. You too Stiles."

Stiles nodded, speaking with his usual sarcasm, "And here I thought I was never going to see you or your scarves ever again."

Chuckling, Isaac replied, "I see nothing's changed with you then."

Smile broadening, Stiles pointed at him, "And that's where your wrong scarf boy!" To explain what he meant, Stiles flashed his wolf eyes at him.

Noticing the change from warm brown to bright blue, Isaac blinked in surprise. "Well I didn't see that one coming!"

Scott looked at Stiles, doing his best to act stern, "Yes, neither did I."

Stiles punched his shoulder playfully, "Come on, you know you're probably more excited about this than I am." Giving in, Scott laughed, and the three of them came together in a quick group hug before separating hastily. The group all stood reunited in the waiting room, enjoying each other's company. A few buzzing minutes passed before Malia rolled her eyes, interrupting the meet up.

"Are you guys forgetting the half dead Liam we have sitting next door?"

Snapping to attention, Scott hurried through, and the rest of them followed leaving a confused Isaac at the back of the group. Glancing at Malia he asked, "Who's Liam?"

Pausing to let Isaac in before following, she answered, "He's a sophomore that Scott turned last year. He got hurt when we were fighting the dread doctors."

"Wait, the what now?" He turned his puzzled gaze back to her, but she just shook her head impatiently before shoving past him and into the room. She didn't have time for clueless boys who turn up out of nowhere expecting to be welcomed with open arms. _Although_ she thought bitterly, _that's exactly what happened. Stupid Isaac with his stupid scarf._

Now that they were all gathered in the little surgery room, they started to come up with ideas to save him. Kira suggested electrocuting him, like she had done to Scott before. Scott had been happy to try, but then Stiles pointed out that they didn't know _why_ Liam was stuck like that, and electrocuting him might just make it worse. Back to square one. Lydia proposed that Scott entered his mind using his alpha powers. Again however, they didn't have enough information to know whether it would be helpful or harmful to the situation. For an hour they debated and argued, trying to figure out the best way to save their friend. During one of the rare silences, Isaac was struck with an idea. "Guys, I think I know how we can save him."

Scott jumped up eagerly, "What? How?"

"It's something Derek told me about. He did it to save Cora when she got hurt. Only problem is, it involves someone giving up their powers. An alpha either transfers half of their powers, or all of someone else's, into the person who's injured. Scott, if _you_ do it, you'll become a beta again. So it has to be someone else." The silence that followed his statement was broken only by the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. They all stared at each other, no one willing to stand up and sacrifice their powers. After a while, Lydia spoke up:

"Well I'm assuming you have to be some sort of shape shifter for this to work, which rules out me and Kira. So it's down to Malia, Isaac, and Stiles."

Looking around, Isaac stepped back, "Look, I'm sure he's a good kid, but I don't know him and I only just got back. I'm not willing to give up my powers for a stranger. Sorry."

Stiles rolled his eyes, "I'd expect nothing less Scarfie. Look, Malia, I know that you care about Liam, but let's face it, you don't want to give up your powers either. So the only person left is me." Stepping forwards he looked around the group for their approval.

Scott walked forwards, standing beside his friend. Speaking in a hushed tone, he questioned him, "Stiles, are you sure about this? You only just got your powers."

Frustrated, Stiles hissed back, "Yeah and it was _Liam_ that gave them to me. And honestly? I just want to be human again. This is all too much for me to handle, I'd be happier sticking with my baseball bat." Stiles knew his friend would be studying his heartbeat, making sure that he wasn't lying. Maintaining eye contact, Stiles nodded encouragingly. "Scott, this is what I want." And he was telling the truth. Ever since he became a werewolf, all he'd wanted was to go back to being human. Now he had the chance to do that _and_ save Liam at the same time. It was perfect.

After staring at Stiles for an incredibly long time, studying his friend's decision, Scott finally nodded. "Alright," turning to face Isaac he carried on, "so how do we do it?"


	18. The Well

Darkness swept over the room as Scott lowered the last blind. They couldn't risk any passersby witnessing what was about to happen. Liam's body lay sprawled on the table, arms lolling off the sides lazily. Isaac stood off to the left, observing the proceedings. He had done his best to explain how Derek had done it, but now he was having second thoughts. If this didn't work, it was _his_ fault. Leaning against the counter top, he bit his nails anxiously. He was so lost in his own little anxious bubble that he didn't notice Malia appearing next to him. When she spoke he jumped, hand on his heart as he reprimanded her, "You can't just sneak up on people like that!"

Trying to hold in her laugh, Malia folded her arms across her chest, "Sorry, it's an old habit from when I was a coyote in the wild."

Staring at her incredulously, Isaac raised a finger, "Okay, that one needs more explaining. You're a coyote? I thought you were a werewolf like us?"

Shrugging she leant back next to him, "Nope. Coyote. I'll explain more later."

"Oh, so that's why you smell so strange then."

Scoffing indignantly, Malia shoved him slightly harder than what could be classified as a 'playful' gesture. "Says the man who reeks of anxiety! Seriously you're stinking up the place."

Rubbing his shoulder Isaac stared at her. "Well first of all, ow-" Malia rolled her eyes, "and second of all, touché."

They both let out a little laugh before falling into friendly conversation. Looking over at the noise, Stiles gaped. _Seriously?_ He thought. _Malia and Isaac. Really? Ridiculous._ Staring at Scott he gestured towards the pair. Looking over, Scott burst into a wide grin shaking his head as he turned back to Stiles. "Do you think Isaac knows what he's letting himself in for?"

Chuckling Stiles rubbed his hands together, "Who cares, this is gonna be hilarious." Turning to the pair, he called out to them, "Hey, lovebirds do you mind flirting somewhere else? We're trying to concentrate over here." His word choice riled both of them instantly, and they took a few steps away from each other. In a rush, they both talked over one another, trying to explain that they weren't flirting at all, however the bright shade of pink that had taken residence on their cheeks suggested otherwise. Stiles held up a hand to quiet their ramblings before gesturing towards the door, "I have no issues if you two want to get all cosy, just, do it out there so we don't have to suffer through it too." His grin almost doubled in size as he attempted not to break down laughing. Malia, being forwards as usual, grabbed Isaac's hand and pulled him out into the waiting room. Shocked, he stumbled behind her, looking incredulously first at the back of Malia's head, then at Scott and Stiles. Stiles simply shrugged before waving goodbye to the pair as they left the room. Looking to Lydia, he noticed the poorly concealed smile on her face. Winking at her he pulled an over excited face, wiggling his eyebrows as he pointed towards the waiting room. That sent her over the edge, and she burst out laughing, the little snort that he loved so much escaping her. Embarrassed she tried to cover her mouth, but she was laughing too much.

Watching Lydia in fits of laughter only served to set Stiles off giggling. The pair of them were bent double trying to contain their amusement, and Scott and Kira exchanged glances shaking their heads at their friends. Trying to get back to the matter at hand, Kira stepped forwards, guiding Lydia towards the waiting room as she spoke, "Maybe we should wait outside huh? It should probably just be the two of you in here for this." Rendered speechless by her hysterics, Lydia simply nodded, tottering through the door as she tried to calm her laughter. Watching her go, Stiles rubbed his chin thoughtfully, laughter dying out as his mind returned to the problem at hand.

Turning to face Scott, he became instantly serious, "Okay, so are we just gonna do it? How are we doing this?" Stiles had begun to jump on the spot ever so slightly, the anticipation building up inside him become almost too much to handle. He just wanted to get it over and done with, so that Liam would be safe and he could be human again. The moment Liam had bitten him, he realised that it wasn't what he wanted, realised that he was happy being a regular old boring human. Giving that up had been to save Scott and everyone else, but now that he had the opportunity to go back, he was dying to just do it. Rubbing his nose, Scott looked around,

"I think you should probably be sitting down for this. It might take a lot of your energy away." At the end of the sentence, Scott turned his concerned eyes back to Stiles, who nodded in agreement.

"Okay, yeah, so is there a stool or something?" He looked around the room, spotting nothing but medical equipment. Turning back to Scott he groaned, "You want me to sit on the floor don't you?" The Alpha nodded with an apologetic smile, and Stiles sighed. He still ached all over, so the journey down to the ground caused tendrils of pain to go spiralling up his limbs. Finally, he reached the floor with a thud and another groan, before looking up at Scott. "Good?"

Nodding, Scott walked around the table, standing beside his friend, "Yeah that's great. Now uh, this might hurt a bit."

Sucking his teeth, Stiles nodded, "Yup, I remember, stings like a bitch." They both let out a small nervous laugh before Scott brought out his claws. Stiles grabbed Liam's hand as Scott got ready to pierce them both in the back of the neck. Taking a steadying breath, the Alpha began to count down and Stiles rolled his eyes, "Would you just do it already?" Scott went silent, and not a second later Stiles felt the sharp slice of his claws entering his neck. Then everything went white.

His surroundings turned to a luminous, almost painfully bright white, stretching out forever all around him. Turning in a small circle, Stiles looked around for any sign of life. Scott was nowhere to be found, and neither was Liam. Scrunching up his face in confusion, Stiles took a step forwards. The moment he moved, the world around him dissolved into something new. Looking around he found himself in the Beacon Hills woods. _Weird_ he thought, _why the forest?_ Beginning to explore, her started walking forwards, kicking along the fall leaves as he moved. However, before he could take another step, he heard a frustrated growl and then a splash from somewhere behind him. Whipping around, he scanned the area. "Liam? Liam are you there?"

There were a few moments of silence before a confused yet hopeful voice called out to him, "Stiles? Stiles I'm over here!" Following the sound of the younger boy's voice, Stiles doubled back, heading in the direction of what looked like a boarded up well. When he reached it, he saw that enough of the planks were missing for a human to fit through, and looking down, he spotted Liam standing in the bottom. Squinting up at Stiles, Liam waved awkwardly, "Hey."

Arms and chin resting on the stone edge of the well, he peered down at Liam, pretending to be innocently confused, "Well how'd you get down there?"

Throwing his arms up in frustration, Liam shouted up, "I don't know! One minute I'm destroying that stupid machine, then it zaps me and I wake up here. I've been here before, last year when Garret attacked me, he left me in here to die." The kid shuddered at the memory, clearly disturbed by being trapped in the same situation. "I can't climb out."

Scratching his head, Stiles frowned. "Well, I hate to break it to you kiddo, but we're in your mind at the moment, so getting out is sort of up to you." Stiles stared at Liam before remembering the cost of him being here. He had to give up the spark that made him a werewolf in order to save Liam. So if Liam was stuck in the well, Stiles had to get him out. Perhaps that would be the way to save him. "Okay, Liam hold on just a second, I need to figure this out."

Liam stared up at the boy impatiently, "Okay, but soon would be good! I think the water's getting higher!" There was a moment's pause before the sound of rushing water reached Stiles, swiftly followed by Liam's frantic calls, "YUP DEFINATELY GETTING HIGHER. STILES?!"

Leaning over the edge, Stiles watched as the water level quickly rose, starting to envelop a panicked Liam. "Okay, right, umm, you can swim right?"

Staring up at him, Liam shook his head, "NO!"

"Seriously? You're a freshman and you can't swim?!"

"STILES!"

"Right, okay, sorry, not the time. Okay but when we get out of here I'm teaching you how to swim. Okay stand back!" And without further ado, Stiles climbed over the edge of the well before dropping himself in. The fall was much farther than he expected, and when he landed, the resulting splash soaked them both. Sputtering slightly Stiles pushed his hair out of his face. Looking to Liam, he realised just how afraid the kid was. "Liam, it's gonna be fine. I'm gonna keep you above the water, and you're gonna climb out, alright?" Beginning to hyperventilate, Liam nodded quickly. Not waiting any longer, Stiles moved towards his friend, offering his cupped hands as a leg up. Shouting now to compete with the noise of the water rushing in, Stiles instructed Liam on what to do, "Okay, climb up and stand on my shoulders, see if you can start climbing!" Without answering, Liam sprung into action, heaving himself up using the wall to balance until he was standing on top of Stiles' shoulders. The added weight plunged Stiles' head underwater, and he kicked furiously to get back to the surface. When he finally breached, he was coughing and spluttering, the cold water starting a shiver across his whole body.

Panicking, Liam called down to him, "Are you alright?"

Spitting out water, Stiles responded, "I'm fine! Just keep going!" Liam stared at him for a moment before turning his focus back to his escape. Little by little he began to scale the wall, and Stiles made sure to remain underneath him at all times as a foot support. The rapidly rising water made it slightly easier, as Stiles could remain on or close to the water level instead of having to climb up supporting both his and Liam's weights. Every so often, Liam would outstrip the water, and Stiles would have to climb up slightly to keep supporting him. Likewise, sometimes the water caught up, and Stiles was left completely submerged as he tried to push Liam out of harm's way. Finally, after a huge and lengthy struggle, Liam managed to hook his arm over the edge of the well. With one last push of effort, Stiles managed to shove him the rest of the way out.

Once he was on dry land, Liam turned around to help Stiles out, sticking his hand down into the well for him to grab. Reaching out, Stiles was just about to grab it when something caught his ankle. He had less than a second to yelp in surprise before he got pulled down into the depths of the well. Liam screamed his name, but then he was torn back to reality, waking up on the cold surgery table. In a crazed panic, he bolted upright, staring around the room searching for Stiles. Scott was standing next to the table, looking slightly tired. "Scott where's Stiles!" Liam interrogated his friend, watching for a response. The Alpha glanced down to the floor and frowned. Following his gaze, Liam spotted Stiles lying motionless on the floor. "Crap." Jumping off the table, Liam knelt down beside Stiles, turning him over so that he lay on his back. "Stiles?" He leant down so his ear was next to the boy's nose. He wasn't breathing. Desperately, Liam began doing chest compressions, yelling for Stiles to wake up.

The commotion must have reached those waiting in the other room, for now they were all standing around the scene, worried faces watching as Liam worked. The compressions didn't seem to be doing anything, and Liam realised he'd have to resort to something else. Groaning and rolling his eyes, he pinched the boy's nose shut and held his mouth open. Screwing his eyes shut, Liam leant down and blew a strong puff of air into his mouth. He repeated the action twice before sitting up straight, wiping his mouth and watching to see if it worked. After a few painful seconds of silence, Stiles spasmed, coughing and spluttering as a spurt of water came flying out of his mouth. Rolling onto his side he spat the rest out, coughing and wheezing. Using the sleeve of his shirt to dry his face, Stiles turned to face the group. Before he could say anything, Liam pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Surprised, Stiles paused for a moment before hugging him and patting his back. "Thankyou." Liam muttered into his shoulder before pulling back and standing up.

Smiling, Stiles took Liam's offered hand to help heave himself up, wobbling slightly before regaining his balance. "Hey no problem, what're packs for right?" Grinning he patted Liam on the back. A moment later, a very fuzzy memory floated to the surface. Stepping back he turned to Liam, "Hang on. Did you _kiss_ me?"

The whole group burst into laughter as Liam responded, "No! No I did _not_. GUYS I didn't kiss him, it was CPR, mouth to mouth. YOU WEREN'T BREATHING!" Pink with embarrassment, Liam folded his arms in a huff.

Ruffling the kid's hair, Stiles laughed, "I'm only messing with you. Maybe next time get one of the girls to do it though."

Muttering under his breath Liam said, "Yeah well maybe next time I won't save you at all."

This spurred another chorus of laughter from the group, which Liam eventually joined in with. Relieved that everyone was safe and sound, they all exchanged friendly hugs. When it came to Isaac and Malia, the hug lasted slightly longer than it should have. When they parted, they realised that everyone was staring at them, and Malia took a hasty step back, punching Isaac in the arm. Rubbing the spot gingerly he laughed, "Now what was _that_ for."

Looking at him she replied, "Being embarrassed to hug me."

"But you were just as embarrassed!"

"Yeah but that's different." She looked at him, clearly not willing to change her mind, and the whole group dissolved into hysterics once more.


	19. The Room

**A/N:**

 **Sorry for the slight delay in the update! I've had a bit of a pet disaster, my snake got put down and I've been a bit too sad to do any writing. However, I am back and it's actually helping a lot to distract me, so yay! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I'll see you in the next one :) Stay Classy, Icepoppy**

Stiles looked around the pristine room, letting his large bag fall to the ground. "Are you serious?" He turned to face Natalie Martin, who was just smiling at him encouragingly. In order to pay all of the various bills he was crumbling under, he had made the tough decision to sell the house. Unable to let it go, he had put most of his dad's stuff in storage, selling the rest of the furniture to pay off his debts. Lydia had been sitting beside him when he signed the paper work. The moment he had taken his pen off the paper, he had been distraught. He knew it was his only option, that it was for the best. However it still hurt him that he was being forced to give up the house where he grew up. The place where his mother and father had lived happily, once upon a time. Seeing him so upset, Lydia had excused them from the room, guiding Stiles out into the hall. That was when she suggested he move into the Martin household. Apparently they had a guest bedroom that never got used, and he would be welcome to have it. Although shocked at first, Stiles agreed happily, glad to have somewhere other than Scott's floor to stay.

However, now that he was actually standing in the room, he couldn't believe it. Looking back around the place once more, he added, "Like, seriously serious?" It was beautiful. Twice the size of his room at home, and decorated with a far greater sense of style. The bed was large and covered in pillows, an en suite stood off to the left, there was a writing desk and a massive wardrobe. In the corner there was a large plush sofa, seated comfortably next to a small bookshelf containing some of his belongings. In the centre of the room was his investigation board. Lydia must have been sneaking all this in behind his back, making the room truly feel like it belonged to him. Awestruck, he just stood in the doorway, afraid to dirty the white carpet with his feet.

Coming up behind him, Natalie squeezed his arm reassuringly, "Yes I'm serious Stiles. Lydia redecorated the whole room just for you. Now, you get settled in, and if you need anything, and I mean anything at all, don't be afraid to give me a shout." With that, Lydia's mother gave him one last cheery smile before leaving, closing the door behind her. Once he was alone in the room, Stiles let himself get caught up in the newness of it all. Like an awestruck child, he made his way slowly through the room, inspecting each and every new detail. Smiling, he noticed all the little touches that were so Lydia, like the blue lights around the mirror, or the framed posters of abstract movies that they had watched together. When he saw the bedside table, he couldn't help but let out a little happy laugh. She had perfectly arranged a variety of Star Wars memorabilia, as well as a small blue model Jeep in the middle of it all. Kneeling down to get a better look, he geeked out over all the little details. She had gotten everything just right.

Smile growing larger by the second, he moved to the other side of the bed. On this table, sat a few framed pictures. The first, was the drawing of the tree that she had let him keep. Beside that was a photo of the two of them on their first official date; he had driven her all the way out to a beautiful beach, and had a whole picnic set up for them to share. The photo was a selfie she had taken when he was giving her a piggy back out in the water. They were both laughing, beaming at the camera as they got sprayed by the salty water. Chuckling at the memory, he turned his gaze to the last picture. His heart froze. It was the image from his father's office, of the family picnic years before everything had gone wrong. His mother, his father, and a small, innocent, happy Stiles that hadn't been through everything that haunted him these days. The sight of it brought tears to his eyes, and he sniffed loudly, wiping his cheek on the cuff of his hoodie. Turning around he spotted Lydia in the doorway.

When she saw his red face and streaming eyes, she rushed over to him. "Oh no, Stiles I'm sorry. It's not right is it? Oh were the photo's to much? I shouldn't have just assumed-"

"It's perfect." His voice cracked slightly when he cut her off, but his smile was genuine.

"Really?" She looked up at him with her bright green hopeful eyes.

Smiling, he pulled her into a tight hug, "Of course it is. You did it after all. I can't imagine anything better."

Laughing with relief, Lydia hugged him back. The pair stood for quite some time, hugging, rocking back and forth slightly in the middle of the room. Eventually Lydia pulled away, looking up at her precious friend. Eyes flicking back and forth between his own, she studied him for a while, taking in his appearance. The eyes that she loved so much were as strange as ever, a warm caramel brown with a slightly darker outer ring. Long curly eyelashes fanned out above them, twitching every time he blinked. She took in his scattering of moles, and the odd shape of his lips. When she looked to his eyebrows, she found them raised in confusion. "Hey, uh... Lydia? Whatcha doin?"

Pressing her lips together in embarrassment, she looked down. After letting the silence surround them for a moment, she finally spoke up. "Making sure I remember everything. Every detail of this moment. Because it's one of my favourites so far, and I don't want to forget it." Sparing a glance up at him, she was shocked to find him forcing down a set of the giggles. Insulted, she spoke up indignantly, "What's so funny?"

Letting out a calming breath, he smiled cheekily at her. "I was just thinking about what Sophmore Stiles would have done if you'd said that to him."

The image that sprung to mind –one of Stiles jumping and flailing in jubilation- spurred a burst of laughter from her too. "Oh my god I think you would've fainted!"

Taking a step back he stood tall, trying his best to look indignant, "Stiles Stilinski does a lot of things, but he does not faint!"

Snorting with laughter, Lydia began to make a list on her fingers, "How about the time when Scott got his tattoo, or maybe when the Nogitsune died, or how about that time you saw me naked?"

Rushing forwards he grabbed her hands, trying to halt the rapidly increasing count. "Okay okay you can stop there!" She wriggled her hands underneath his grip for a moment before giving up with a little puff. Now that they were closer, he rested his forehead on hers. Closing his eyes, he sighed. Suddenly, the mood in the room darkened significantly, and Lydia stepped back, looking at him with concern.

"Stiles? What's the matter?"

Finding it too difficult to look at her, he chose instead to move to the window, staring out at the scenery. Sighing, he spoke up, "Lydia, how can you stand to love me?"

"What?"

"I'm a monster Lydia. I've done so many terrible things. I've hurt so many innocent people. How could you possibly love a monster like me?" He turned to her, pained expression distorting his usually cheery face.

Taken aback, she thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. Slowly, she walked towards him until they were eye to eye in front of the window. "Stiles, do you want to know what I see when I look at you?" He mouthed silently before falling still, giving her a quick nod. "I see Stiles Stilinski. The only boy who ever actually _loved_ me. I see the boy who saw straight through me, and knew instantly who I really was. I see the boy who looked after me, and comforted me, who told me I look beautiful when I cry. I see the boy who helped Scott when he got bitten, I see the boy who won the Lacrosse game. The boy who saved Derek, and Cora, and Scott, Melissa, Chris, Alison, Isaac, Liam, Malia, Kira _and_ me. Many times. The guy who was willing to get shot in the head rather than give up his friends to an assassin. The one who works tirelessly to figure things out, so that we can _save_ people. The guy who checked himself into a mental asylum because he was afraid of hurting his friends. Stiles, who went through the werewolf transformation, and let some crazy scientists perform cruel experiments on him just to be sure that the pack was safe. A man so ridden with guilt over all the things he was _forced_ to do, that he can't see the hero that he actually is. I see Stiles Stilinski, with all his demons and scars, and I love him so much it actually scares me just a little bit. I see a hero."

Blinking, he stared at her, shock plastered on his face. Watching him, she saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to process everything she had said. She wished so badly that he would realise what a hero he was, that he would accept that, and forgive himself for the things that were beyond his control. Looking at him, she knew he would never fully forgive himself, but she hoped that perhaps this would be a start. She smiled at him encouragingly, and he wriggled his nose, clearing his throat before mumbling, "I'm not a hero."

Grabbing his hand, she swung it about lazily, mimicking his actions from back in the ambulance, "Your _my_ hero." She made sure to say it exactly the way he had, leaning forwards as she teased him.

This gained a laugh from Stiles, and she threw her arms up in the air, doing a little dance, "Victory!"

Staring incredulously at his girlfriend, Stiles laughed, "Alright okay, you win. What exactly have you won?"

"I got you to smile, so I win." She poked him in the side, and he jumped, laughing as he pushed her hands away.

"Alright! Ah stop, okay I'm laughing! Ahah Lydia come on I said you win!" He tried to wriggle out of her reach but she hugged him round his middle, tickling him relentlessly.

"So what's my prize?"

Squirming desperately, he managed to speak between his fits of giggles, "Let me go and I'll tell you!"

She paused in her attack momentarily, eyeing him suspiciously, "I... didn't actually expect a prize. You have my attention."

Shuffling around to face her whilst still in her bear grip, her grinned at her. "Well you'll only find out if you let me go." Squinting at him, she pursed her lips, trying to come to a decision. Stay like this and tickle Stiles more, or find out what sort of prize he was planning on giving her. When she didn't respond, he quirked his head to the side, mischievous grin on his face. "Well?"

Speaking slowly, Lydia replied, "I think... that... I'm... gonna let you go." She released him and he jumped away from her, eyeing her suspiciously, wary of surprise attacks. "Now," she beckoned with her hand, "Pay up. What's my prize?"

Stepping back hastily he reasoned with her, "Now to be honest, I don't actually have a prize-" she lunged forwards, ready to tickle him again. Quickly, he jumped out of the way, putting the investigation board between them. "-But! Maybe, we can, come to, some, sort of, agreement?" His words were separated by his movements left and right as Lydia tried to decide which way to chase him around the board. Eventually she chose left and he darted right, hurrying towards the edge of the bed. As she advanced towards him he clambered backwards, climbing over the bed in his attempt to escape. "I can think of something! It'll be great, I swear." His foot got snagged in the sheets and he got stuck halfway over the bed. Tugging away at it he tried his best to untangle himself. However, before he knew it Lydia had jumped on top of him, poking and tickling and offering no sign of easing up any time soon.

Laughing desperately he tried to get her off. Squirming this way and that, he eventually managed to throw her balance. Seizing the opportunity, he rolled over so that he was above her, pinning her hands down so that she couldn't tickle him anymore. They were both out of breath and panting from the play fighting. It was at this moment that Natalie decided to walk through the door. Entering the room and seeing Stiles on top of her daughter on the bed, she gave a high pitched, "Oh!" of shock before excusing herself and closing the door quickly. Horrified at what she must be thinking, Stiles jumped up running towards the door. Grabbing the handle he swung it open, calling out to Lydia's mom:

"Ms Martin! It's not what you think. We were just- it's not- aand you're gone." Sagging with a mixture of embarrassment and relief at not having to explain himself just yet, he turned to look at Lydia. She smiled and he ran his hand through his hair. "Why is it that adults always walk in when I'm doing something perfectly innocent that looks really dodgy?"

She laughed and leaned against the door frame, raising her eyebrow at him, "Oh, so this happens often does it?"

"Well, not _often_. But it happened when I was dating Malia. Before she got proper control over the change and we still had to chain her up at the full moon? Yeah I was making sure the cuffs fit while we were in my room. Dad walked in, saw us, looked concerned and then decided to not ask any questions." He laughed at the memory, and Lydia joined in.

Smiling at him, she said, "Well, it's six o'clock, which means time for family dinner. Ready to go have a nice chat with Mommy Martin?" His face paled at the thought, causing Lydia to laugh. Grabbing him by the hand, she pulled, leading him down stairs towards the dining room.


	20. The Initiation

The engine of Lydia's car hummed smoothly as they cruised along the road. It had become routine for them now, that she would drive them whilst he distracted her with nonsensical chatter about this that or the other. Then she would roll her eyes at one of his stupid jokes, and he would giggle to himself, clearly finding it far more funny than she did. The routine would continue for a while, and it was almost the exact same thing every time they got into the little blue car. However, today Stiles broke routine. For once, he fell silent, drumming the dashboard nervously with his fingers. The sound was distracting and Lydia snapped at him, "Stiles? Trying to drive here." Jumping slightly he pulled his hands away, pinning them firmly together in his lap. The extra energy simply moved somewhere else, manifesting itself in his leg, causing it to bounce up and down at an alarming rate. Glancing across she realised how worked up he was getting. "Stiles? Are you okay? Do we need to stop?"

Turning slightly red at the suggestion, he shook his head rapidly, "No no! It's fine. I'm just- uh- thing is I'm trying to- I have no idea what I'm doing- uh- wait hold on why are you parking?"

She had pulled up at the side of the road, and was now fixing her knowing gaze on him. "Stiles, something's wrong. What is it?"

"Lydia I'm fine, really." He gave her a lopsided grin, but she wasn't buying it.

"I'm not starting the car until you tell me what's up." She folded her arms, staring him down stubbornly.

Rubbing his face, Stiles sighed nervously. His extra energy seemed to be bursting out of him, making him move much more sharply and sporadically than normal. Twisting himself in his seat, he tried to reach into the back of the car. About half way through the motion, he got stuck in the gap between the two front seats. His seatbelt was stopping him from moving any further, and the positioning of his arms prevented him from going back. After squirming helplessly for a minute, he flopped with a huff, calling out to the girl, "Lydia..."

Sputtering with laughter, she adopted an oblivious attitude, "Yes?"

"Could you help me, please?"

"Whatever with?"

"...Lydia would you just un-buckle the seatbelt?" There was an amused silence, and he groaned before adding a begrudging, "Please?"

Giving in she reached over and pushed in the clip. The seatbelt was sent whizzing back into its holder, releasing Stiles and causing him to face plant into the back seat. Voice muffled by the fabric, he muttered, "Thank you." Once he had righted himself, he set about searching for whatever it was that was causing him such stress. The car was filled with thumps and mutterings and the occasional 'thunk' as Stiles hit his head off of the door or the roof. Finally, he had found what he was looking for, pulling something that Lydia couldn't see from his discarded jacket. Dragging himself back through to the front, he collapsed in his seat, panting slightly from the effort it had taken to retrieve this mystery item. Raising her eyebrow, Lydia stared at him.

"Stiles, what on earth is going on?"

Biting his cheek nervously, he gave himself a shake before speaking to her. "Lydia, I um- so I had been thinking about- um- about us and I realised that you did all that amazing stuff in my room for me and I hadn't really done anything in return-"

"Stiles that's ridiculous-"

"Hold on," he cut her off, "I'm serious, I wanted to do something to say thank you. So could you maybe close your eyes for a sec?"

Gaping at him incredulously she rolled her eyes before complying, "You have five seconds." Raising her hand she began to count down on her fingers. She heard a frenzied fumbling coming from Stiles' direction, but when she opened her eyes he was back in the seat, grinning nervously at her. "Okay, _now_ are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

Pink with barely concealed glee, he pointed to the dashboard, "Turn on the music." Staring at him in confusion, she chose not to question his increasingly odd behaviour, and simply reached forwards, pressing the music system into life. There was a slight pause before a vaguely familiar song started playing. She sat perfectly still for a moment, trying to recall where she had heard it before. And then it hit her. It was the song that she and Stiles had slow danced to all that time ago at prom. Letting out a small gasp, she covered her mouth, turning wide eyed to Stiles. He smiled at her, speaking quietly, "I take it you recognise it then?"

Letting out a small happy laugh, she nodded, turning up the volume. She allowed the music to take her back to a simpler time. Back when the supernatural didn't exist, and everything was so much simpler. With a jolt, she realised that although it had been simpler before, she wouldn't go back. What she had now was so much better, she could be herself, and she had Stiles and the pack. Although it was complicated and hard, the life she led was one that she wouldn't trade for anything. Opening her eyes once more, she looked at her boyfriend. "I can't believe you."

Rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, he muttered, "Yeah there's actually a whole CD of songs in there. All the songs that remind me of you, or us. God that is so cheesy I'm sorry." He covered his face and turned away from her.

Laughing, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to face her. Gently prying his hands off of his face, she smiled at him, "It's perfect, thank you." Giving him a quick peck on the lips, she squeezed his hands before returning to her driving position. "Put your belt back on, we're going to be late if we don't hurry up."

Jumping into action, Stiles nodded, "Yeah they better not start the movie without us.

Laughing, Lydia drove out onto the road, "Stiles, I doubt Scott will willingly start watching Star Wars, with _or_ without you." Stiles scoffed and they fell into comfortable silence, listening to the playlist Stiles had created for her. Eventually they arrived at the McCall household. Scott's bike, Kira's car, Melissa's car and Mason's rickety box that he claimed was a functioning motor vehicle were all filling up the driveway, so Lydia was forced to pull up on the sidewalk. Turning off the car, she climbed out, waiting for Stiles to come around and join her. Hand in hand they walked up to the door, not bothering to knock. Swinging the heavy wooden door to the side, they slipped inside. The sound of people laughing reached them from the living room, and they followed it to find the rest of the pack hanging out there.

Malia and Isaac stood by the window, talking away to each other. Lydia couldn't help but notice that Malia had started wearing scarves recently. Scott and Kira sat on the floor next to the TV, clearly arguing over what they should all watch first. Hayden and Liam were both sitting on the couch, and Stiles laughed when he saw Mason sitting between them, chatting enthusiastically and totally unaware that he was getting in the way of a moment. Scott looked up when they entered the room, walking over to them as he greeted, " _Finally_ you guys are here. What took you so long?" He gave them a suggestive look and waggled his eyebrows. This had the effect of making Lydia roll her eyes, and Stiles stutter uncontrollably.

"What? Scott- no. We didn't- we weren't- look nothing-"

Scott interrupted his friends panicked rambling by patting him on the shoulder, "I'm only kidding Stiles. Now both of you get in here and try find somewhere to sit. Kira's just choosing the first movie."

Outraged, Stiles held out his hand, "Hold on! I thought we agreed we were going to be watching Star Wars?" The entire room groaned. "Hey hey hey. Don't judge until you've seen it. It's a masterpiece. Tell 'em Lydia."

Everyone stared at her and her eyes widened, shock painted across her face. Hayden giggled, "Wait, _you've_ seen Star Wars?"

Isaac joined in, "I have to admit Lydia, I didn't think it was your sort of movie."

Brushing her skirt down with her hands, Lydia cleared her throat, expertly maintaining her composure, "I have watched it once or twice, yes."

At this, Stiles turned to her in awe, "You've seen them more than once?"

With a slight pout, she looked up at him, speaking quietly, "What? They're good films."

The whole room burst into laughter, and eventually Lydia joined in. Kira used this as a distraction, shoving 'The Notebook' into the DVD player before Stiles could object. When the screen lit up with the title, there was a collective groan from the guys, apart from Mason, who sat up eagerly like the girls had done. Seeing Liam's reaction, he nudged his shoulder, "C'mon Liam this is a great film. You'll love it."

Resting his head on his palm, Liam rolled his eyes, resigned to watching the film. Stiles flicked off the lights before joining Lydia on the love seat. She curled in beside him, head resting on his shoulder. About half way through the film, Stiles nudged Lydia slightly. Confused she looked up at him, "What?"

"I was just thinking. This is sorta like you and me. You're way out of my league, I went slightly crazy about you, you found someone else, I found someone else, and then we finally got together."

Smiling up at him, she kissed his cheek, "I suppose your right. Only I promise never to forget how much I love you. No matter what happens, I'll always remember you." Liam shushed them, leaning forwards to listen to what was happening in the film. He'd been totally engrossed since the first scene. Lydia smothered her laughter in Stiles' shoulder, ignoring the foul look she got from the young beta.

After what felt like forever, the movie was finally over. The reactions in the room varied from Liam sobbing into a pillow as Mason patted him gently on the back, to Isaac who was questioning the possibility of the ending. "I mean, come on. How can their love just magically make them-"

Liam blubbered in, interrupting his criticism, "Shut up! It was beautiful. They were so in love. Hayden I need a hug!" And then he flopped across the whole couch, legs across Mason and torso being cradled by a bemused Hayden. Bewildered, she smiled anyway, stroking his hair comfortingly. Scott laughed and stood up. He nodded at Stiles who clapped his hands together excitedly before jumping up, leaving a very disgruntled Lydia on the couch. Scott and Stiles stood in the middle of the room, facing the three youngest people there. Hayden and Mason both looked up, whereas Liam was too busy crying to notice. Every time Scott opened his mouth to speak, another loud hiccup or sob came from Liam. Fed up, Stiles rolled his eyes raising his voice:

"Yeah Liam we get it, it's a sad movie. Now pull yourself together so we can get on with this alright?"

Liam nodded, sniffing loudly and rubbing his nose before standing up and walking over to stand next to Kira. She patted him on the head in an attempt to comfort him. Mason meanwhile was staring between Scott and Stiles, a mixture of excitement and trepidation on his face. "Get on with what? What's going on?"

Stiles bounced on his heels eagerly, looking to Scott for permission to reveal the big secret. Laughing at his friends hyperactive tendencies, Scott nodded his consent. Throwing his fist into the air, Stiles set of talking at a hundred miles per hour. "So Scott and I have been doing some talking, and we think that it's time that you two got initiated."

Speaking cautiously, Hayden stared at him, "Initiated into what?"

"Into our secret cult that worships cabbage," he spoke with a deadpan tone before rolling his eyes at her, shaking his hands, "Into the pack of course!"

Hayden's eyebrows shot into her hairline, and Mason jumped up in excitement, head bobbing between the two seniors in front of him. "Seriously? I get to be part of the pack? But I'm not even supernatural!"

Offended, Stiles held up his hands, "Hey now, you don't need to be supernatural to be a useful member of the pack. Right Scott?" His statement was met with silence, "Scott?" He turned to look at his friend, who just made a non-comital shrug. Before Stiles could yelp in outrage, Scott cracked up, shoving Stiles playfully.

"Of course not. Stiles is probably the best informed about the supernatural out of all of us. And now he gets to teach all of that to you." Scott slapped Stiles on the back. Stiles however, had frozen, staring at his friend in horror.

"What? When did I agree to that? I can't teach! Scott I don't know how to do this how do you expect me to- why do I have to- Scott?!" Stiles was flailing his arms all over the place, and Mason looked a little put out. However, ever the peace keeper, Scott simply grabbed Stiles by the shoulder, calming him down as he spoke:

"Stiles, you'll be fine. Mason's super smart and you are too, it'll be like having another detective on your team! What was it you always used to call it? Some sort of detective agency. Oh wait I remember, The Styd-" Stiles jumped forwards, pressing his hand across Scott's mouth, face turning a bright shade of pink.

"Not another word Scott. I mean it. Not a peep. Dude seriously, not cool, that was a secret." Stiles hissed the message under his breath, hoping that Scott hadn't said enough for his friends to figure out the embarrassing truth. Staring daggers at Scott, Stiles slowly removed his hand. Watching his friend for a moment, Stiles became satisfied that he wouldn't blab, and relaxed moving towards Mason to pat him on the back.

Before Stiles had any time to stop him, Scott had announced it quickly to the room. "HE USED TO CALL IT THE STYDIA DETECTIVE AGENCY!" Stiles whipped around, staring in horror at his friend. He cringed as the people in the room slowly started to figure it out. Isaac was the first to speak up:

"Stydia? As in, Stiles and Lydia? Seriously?" He tried and failed to cover up his glee at discovering the embarrassing secret.

Not even attempting to make an excuse, Stiles just stared at the floor, hand rubbing away the stress at the back of his neck. "You know what? Yes. I did call it that cause it sounded cool, and me and Lydia always seemed to be the ones figuring things out. I only told Scott by accident, and it was _supposed_ to be a _secret_." He glared at his friend once more, who raised his hands in surrender. This caused Lydia and Kira to giggle, and eventually the rest of the room joined in, leaving a very disgruntled Stiles standing in the middle. He groaned, looking apologetically at Lydia.

She simple shrugged, standing and walking over to him. "Well," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "I think it's cute." He laughed in relief, scooping her up in a tight hug, spinning her in a circle. Lydia squealed, laughing and demanding to be put down. Stiles refused, spinning her this way and that. Rolling his eyes at their antics, Liam decided to break it up.

Shouting to the rest of the pack with mischievous glee, he ran at the pair, "DOG PILE!" Barging into Stiles' side, Liam knocked them onto the sofa. Soon the others started jumping on top of the mess, and they all ended up in a laughing pile of limbs on the floor.


	21. The Training

The early morning sunlight blazed outside, doing its best to shine through the drawn curtains in the living room. The pack all lay sprawled around the place, some slouched on sofa's others slumped on the floor. One by one they had fallen asleep until only Stiles remained, watching Star Wars till the end. Eventually, even he had succumbed to sleep. He was sprawled across the love seat that he had previously been sharing with Lydia. His legs were hanging off the back and his head lolled off the seat precariously. A sharp jab to the ribs cause him to jump, losing his position and smacking his head on the coffee table. Rubbing his head and groaning, he stared grumpily at Lydia. She stood looking bright eyed and fully awake, with her arms folded across her chest looking impatiently at him. Standing up slowly, he squinted at her groggily, speech still slurred by sleep's spell. "Lydia? What was that for?"

Quickly, she raised a single finger to her lips, motioning for him to be quiet. Frowning at her he looked where she was pointing, only just then realising that everyone else was still sleeping. Thoroughly confused, he shrugged at her, pulling his best _what the hell is going on_ face. Raising her eyebrows impatiently, she held out her hand. Sighing, he took it, rubbing his face wearily as she led him out into the hallway. Stopping, she turned to face him, speaking in a hushed whisper. "We're going on a field trip."

"Wha?"

Grinning she held up her car keys, "You and I are going on a field trip."

Still highly confused, Stiles stared at the keys dangling in front of his face. "Okay... and what exactly are we doing on this field trip?" He raised an eyebrow at her at the end of his question.

Opening the door and stepping outside, Lydia remained cryptic. "Training."

"Training for what?" Stiles spoke louder now that they were outside, stumbling after the red head on the way to her car. She didn't answer and he groaned in frustration. "So am I always going to be this confused in our relationship? Like is this going to be a regular thing or what? Should I maybe hire a private detective?"

She laughed as they climbed into the little car, "No Stiles, you don't need a detective. Besides, you would constantly be second guessing them anyway." Turning on the car, she set off in the direction of Beacon County Forrest. "By training, I mean you're going to learn how to fight, and I'm going to learn more about my banshee powers."

Staring at her in shock, Stiles began to ramble, "Lydia, I don't need to learn how to fight, I can take care of myself alright? I have a bat! I'm happy to help you with your powers but I don't need help fighting." He folded his arms stubbornly.

Shaking her head at his behaviour, she gave him an ultimatum, "Either you let me teach you how to fight, or you have to promise never to go out with the pack to fight again. So?"

Jaw hanging uselessly, he stared at her. "Lyds, you can't be serious?" Instead of giving a response she just gave a little shrug of her shoulders, glancing at him briefly. Screwing his face up he groaned, "Alright _fine_. But I'm not gonna hit you."

Laughing Lydia responded, "Hah, like you could!" She pulled up next to a clearing in the woods as she spoke, switching off the engine.

He waggled his finger jokingly at her as they got out of the car, "Don't test me Martin!"

She gaped at him, clearly shocked by his tone, "Are you patronising me Stilinski?"

Putting his hands on his hips he retorted, "So what if I am?"

"Alright, well if you think you can take me, come get it!" She raised her fists into the boxing position, ready for a fight.

Raising his hands he tried to reason with her, "Look Lydia, I'm not going to fight you!"

Advancing towards him, she teased him, "Why? Too scared?" To hammer home the insult she planted two sharp punches on his arm. He stepped back, rubbing the spot and laughing warily as he spoke:

"Ow, hey come on cut it out."

"Not until you fight back." She aimed another, slightly more gentle kick to his side, causing him to stumble to the side.

"Lydia-" He was cut off as she threw another punch at him. This time instead of letting it land, he blocked it, knocking her fist away with his forearm. Seeing she had won, Lydia burst into a devious grin. She threw off her hoodie, getting ready to spar with him properly. Laughing at her eagerness, Stiles also discarded his hoodie, throwing it on top of hers over by the car. The moment he turned around, she was going for him, throwing punch after punch in his direction. Startled, he did his best to either block or evade the blows, but failed on his first few attempts. Now nursing a painful jaw, he stepped up his game, managing to block her next two attacks with ease. "Is that all you got?" He teased her, dodging this way and that to avoid her blows.

She paused, smiling sweetly at him, "Honey, we're just getting started." And with that she launched herself at him, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground. Then she rained down punches towards his face. Instinct forced his arms up to protect his head, and he sat there getting pummelled for a few moments before he figured out what to do. Eventually and idea popped into his head. Grabbing her wrists he dropped all of his wait onto his left side, forcing her to roll with him until he was on top of her. Shocked and clearly frustrated, she wriggled underneath his substantial weight. Trying desperately to break free, she became more and more irritated the longer she was stuck there. Rapidly growing tired of the situation, she shouted in frustration, shoving Stiles' chest as she did so. The event that followed shocked them both.

Bursting out from where she had hit him, a wave of hot prickly energy pulsed from her hands, sending him flying backwards. He landed with a dull thud face up on the ground a few feet away. Instantly worried, Lydia jumped up, rushing over to him. His eyes were closed and his face was all scrunched up with discomfort. "Oh my god, Stiles? Are you alright?" She knelt down beside him, hands cupping his face.

With a groan he forced open his eyes, squinting at her, "No fair, you used magical Banshee powers, that's gotta count as cheating." He let out a small chuckle and she laughed with relief, helping him to stand up. Brushing himself down, he spoke to her, "So that was interesting. Can we call my fighting lesson to an end for today? I want to learn more about these fancy powers you got going on." Looking at her curiously, he took one of her hands. "I wonder how it works."

She stared down and their hands and considered it for a moment. Face furrowed in thought, she gave out a little huff of contemplation. "Well, it happened when I hit you."

He looked up, mind clearly racing, "Yeah true, but you hit me a bunch of other times and nothing extra-ordinary happened." She stared at him and he quickly added, "Don't get me wrong, it hurt, but I mean nothing supernatural happened."

Lifting her free hand to stare at, she murmured her response, "Yeah I suppose. So what is it then?" Turning away from him, she thought back to when the powers had first appeared. Down in the sewer system when Stiles' life had been in danger. All she could remember was seeing him so afraid, and something just switched inside of her. Thinking hard, she recalled yelling when she hit the doctor. Maybe that was it? Holding her hands out in front of her, she aimed at a pile of leaves on the ground. Taking a deep breath, she yelled, pushing her hands closer to the pile. Nothing happened. In the background, she could hear Stiles laughing. Whipping around she glared at him, silencing his mirth immediately. "It _might_ have worked." She said as she strutted back to his side.

Rubbing his chin he nodded, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Uh huh, yeah totally. I know I like to yell at piles of leaves to release my inner Banshee powers."

"Ugh you're so ANNOYING!" She growled at him, shoving his shoulder on the last word. Once again the strange invisible force extended from her hand, knocking a bewildered Stiles to the ground. She stared in shock at her hand. "Okay, this is really starting to weird me out."

Muttering as he stood up, Stiles frowned at her, "Yeah I'm not having such a peachy time either Lyds." He was just brushing a leaf off of his shoulder when an idea struck him. He turned to face her, and she looked at him cautiously. She knew the look on his face; it was his idea face, which was usually followed by some hair brained scheme that got them both in trouble. He walked towards, her emphasising his words with wild hand gestures, "So were-creatures have to have an anchor or something to keep their powers under control right? Derek used pain, Scott used love, blah blah blah. Well what if it's the same with you, but different somehow? Maybe you have to tap into a certain emotion to be able to control your powers."

Pressing her lips together, she thought for a moment, "I suppose it could be possible."

Taking an eager step forwards Stiles began to talk faster and faster, "No it makes total sense. All the times you've used your power so far, you've been really mad. Maybe you have to be angry to use it?"

Looking up at him she frowned, "Okay, but how do I just get angry on queue? Plus, I don't want to be angry all the time."

He thought for a moment before another idea lit up his face. Taking her by the shoulders he led her back to the pile of leaves. "Okay Lydia. Picture something really annoying in the leaves. Pretend the leaves just insulted you're heels."

"Stiles this is silly." She looked at him sceptically.

"Lydia just give it a shot okay? What get's you really mad?" He was rubbing her shoulders as though she were about to go into a boxing ring.

Sighing she thought for a moment, before eventually saying, "The angriest I've ever been was when that Doctor was dragging you away. I get mad when people threaten you."

He stopped poking his head over her shoulder to speak with her, "Really? That's so sweet." His voice was light and genuine.

She shrugged him off, "How is being angry sweet, Stiles? I don't want to be angry at everything all of the time!"

He blinked, studying her frustrated body language. After a moment's thought, he took her hand. "Well then don't think of it like that. Think of it as- as wanting to protect me. Like, when you need to use your powers, its not cause your mad, it's cause you're looking out for me."

For a moment she stood still, staring at him blankly. He wasn't sure if she was going to yell at him or break down crying. Anxiously he waited for her reaction. Finally, she nodded, turning back to the pile of leaves and raising her hand. Closing her eyes, she thought hard about keeping Stiles safe. She made herself believe that by using her powers, she was somehow protecting Stiles. All that was left to do was try, so she thought the command, willing her powers to work. Feeling a warm tingle in her palm, she opened her eyes to see a few leaves stirring. Glancing at Stiles she raised her eyebrows, "Did it work?"

He pulled a face, making a non committal movement with his head, "Sorta. It wasn't nearly as strong as before. Maybe you're thinking too hard?"

She glowered at him, silencing him immediately. Taking a calming breath, she turned her attention back to the leaves. _Alright_ she thought _don't over think it. Keep it simple. Uhm, protection._ She moved and nothing happened. Frustrated, she tried a different approach, D _efence? Anger? Attitude? Hope? Love? Come ON one of these has to work!_ She shoved her hands forwards once more, and nothing happened. Disheartened she closed her eyes. She hated not being able to do things, to understand them. It made her feel stupid. Stupid had been her whole personality until Stiles had called her out on it, he had seen right through her dumb act. She never wanted to be dumb again after that, always wanted to be the smartest, to catch up on the years she spent pretending not to be. Upset, she sniffed, on the verge of tears. Not wanting to break down in the middle of training, she tried to calm herself down. Inside her head she thought of calming, happy things. Oddly enough, the only thought that kept returning to her was of Stiles.

Curious, she raised her hand once more. Focusing her thoughts on Stiles, she twitched her hand. There was an audible gust of air, and when she opened her eyes leaves were raining down all around them. Jumping in excitement, she ran over to Stiles, "It worked! Did you see? I did it Stiles! We did it! I think I can control it now!"

He joined in her happy dance, jumping in a little circle with her. They held hands and spun around until they became to dizzy, falling to the leafy ground with a couple of yelps. Laughing, Stiles rolled onto his side to look at her, "So, Miss Banshee, how did you do it?"

Shyly, she pressed her lips together, looking into his warm eyes. "I thought of you." Her voice was quiet, but still light and cheery.

Blinking at her, Stiles replied, "Me?" The shock in his voice was poorly concealed.

Laughing she shuffled closer to him, poking his nose gently, "Yes _you_. Apparently that's all I need."

Smiling, he stared at her, stroking a loose strand of hair behind her dainty ear. "I love you." The three simple words had the quality of warming up the chilled morning air, making Lydia feel like she were floating in a bath. It took all her worries away, all of her stress, and in the moment she was overjoyed to be able to say:

"I love you too" back to him, and to actually mean it, with all of her heart.


	22. The Voices

School was coming to an end, winding down in the last few weeks that remained of the summer term. All the kids had gone wild with summer fever, the senior classes becoming especially raucous. All of senior year were ecstatic at the thought of graduation, of moving on to new places. Everyone except for one or two that was. Stiles was in the minority, dreading the time where he and his friends might drift apart, loosing contact with one another. He sat in the library with Lydia, holding hands as they leafed through their various forms that had to be completed before graduation day. Groaning, Stiles buried his face in Lydia's hair. "Remind me again why we have to do this?"

Shrugging him off she laughed lightly, " _Because_ , if we don't then we'll still be registered as taking all of our classes, and they'll think we never returned all of our text books. You might end up having to pay for them." She added the last part in a sing song sort of voice.

The thought of having to spend money on something as trivial as incomplete forms jolted Stiles into action, and he filled them all out with great speed. "Done!" he slammed his pen on the table before slumping back on his chair. Lydia completed her last form with an elegant flourish of ink, gently placing her pen next to his.

"Done." She added, much quieter than Stiles. His outburst had earned him several foul looks from those who were trying to use the library for quiet study. Turning to smile at her, he jumped when he saw the time on the clock behind her.

"Aww crap!" He rocketed up, shoving all of his stuff into his back pack.

Glancing at the clock, and then staring at him, she stood up as well. "Stiles? What's wrong?"

Pausing amidst his frantic actions, he turned to her, "I'm still meant to go to these stupid guidance counsellor meetings! The school made me, especially after that everything that happened with- with- after everything that happened." It was still too hard to say _Dad_ in a normal sentence. Shaking his head he threw his backpack over his shoulders, kissing her quickly before adding, "I'll see you at home, I'll just get the bus back. Love you!" He shouted the statement over his shoulder as he ran out of the library, earning him another round of annoyed glares.

Laughing slightly, she packed up her own belongings before heading out of the library. It was almost the end of the day, and she had a free period anyway, so without Stiles to keep her company, the best option seemed like going home early. Lydia was walking out of the main doors to the school when she heard it. The voice that had been haunting her ever since she tapped into her powers. Since she gained control. Sneering and cruel, it whispered the most horrible things to her. "Can you guess?" it said, "Can you guess who's going to die next?" Someone knocked into her shoulder, and she realised that she had frozen in the middle of the busy walkway. Apologising profusely she hurried off, shaking her head to try and rid herself of the voice. It was a horrific contorted sound, composed of all the voices of those that she had lost. She could hear touches of Alison's gentle tone, of Aiden's smooth voice. Her grandmother's usually gentle voice twisted to sound cruel and menacing, the voice of John Stilinski, only harsh and distorted. They all conspired together to make a frightening sound, a deafening symphony of whispers inside of her head. "Do you want to see?"

Speaking under her breath in a panic, she grabbed some hand railing for support. "No. Leave me alone."

A fellow student stared at her as he walked past, giving her a concerned look. Not noticing, she continued to stare at the ground, her whole body shaking. The voices just wouldn't leave her alone; it was as though figuring out her powers had opened a door for them, and now she couldn't close it. "You can feel it, can't you?" The voices drew out the words, dripping with malice.

Tears forming in her eyes she shook her head, denying the truth. "No. No, now stop it!" Her voice was growing louder by the second, and now a ring of students had formed around her, watching her strange behaviour.

"We're going to show you." The voices gave her no choice, forcing the images into her mind. Falling to her knees she began sobbing, pressing her hands to her ears in an attempt to block it out. She could hear everything. Each little movement and event that would lead up to the death of another one of her friends. Listening unwillingly, she heard the sound of a key-card being used to enter the library. Her heart dropped when she heard Liam's voice, followed by growling and jumping. Someone yelled, it sounded like Scott. What happened next was sickening. She saw something akin to a slideshow, each new image depicting how another person was going to die. She saw all of them, Scott, Stiles, Liam, Malia, Kira, Mason and Hayden. They all looked far too young, far too similar to how they looked today. Heartbroken, she let out a sobbing scream, causing the ring of people around her to take a few cautious steps backwards.

Mid-sob, she felt someone grab her shoulder. Eyes flying open she turned to stare at whoever had dared touch her. Her gaze locked with that of Theo. "You!" She was yelling, not caring that half the school was now staring at her.

Trying to hold her still, Theo spoke under his breath, "Lydia, calm down, it's me."

"LET GO OF ME!" She struggled against him, but his grip was strong.

"Come on, calm _down_." He stared at her, shaking her slightly.

Looking into his cold eyes a horrid realisation hit her. "It's you-" when she spoke it was barely a whisper, "you're going to kill them all."

Theo's face changed to an expression of anger, furious that she had figured out his plans. "Come _on_ Lydia, you're acting crazy!" He yanked her arm, pulling her upright as he spoke. Adopting his usual friendly voice, he addressed the crowd. "Nothing to worry about, she's just having a panic attack. I'm going to take her home."

Struggling against his vice-like grip she screamed and yelled, "Murderer! You're going to kill them all. You're going to kill me! Let me go!" She hit him, shoved him, pulled at her arm in a desperate attempt to escape, but his hold was to strong. Pushing her along, he guided her out into the car park, towards his dark car. Before he shoved her into the passenger side, he pinned her against the door, face close to hers, threat dripping from his voice as he spoke:

"Listen up Lydia. Unless you start co-operating, I'm going to kill Stiles first. And it's going to be way worse than whatever you just saw. Is that what you want?" Glaring at him she shut her mouth, resisting the urge to punch him in his pretty-boy face. Seeing that she had given up, he smirked, laughing slightly as he put her in the car. "Gotta say Lydia, I expected more of a fight, especially from you. Does Stiles really mean that much to you? You know he's not worth it right?" They were moving now, driving out of the school and onto one of the main roads.

Not even looking at him, she replied, voice low and dangerous, "Don't you dare talk about him."

He laughed again, clearly oblivious to the threat in her tone, "You know what he's done right? The people he's hurt?"

Turning to glare at him she responded, "That's rich coming from Theo Raeken. I know what you did. I know you were working with the Dread Doctors. I know that _you_ sent Donovan to kill Stiles."

Mood dropping, he glanced at her, brow creased into a frown, "And how do you know all of that, Lydia?" His voice was sarcastic, almost patronising, each word infuriating her further.

"Me and Stiles figured it out." She turned her gaze back to their surroundings, and realised that she had no idea where they were. "Where are we going?" He didn't answer, simply smirking as he drove. Speaking with greater authority this time, she repeated herself, "Theo. Where are we going?"

Irritated by her commanding tone, the boy gripped the steering wheel more tightly, gritting his teeth as he spoke, "I'm taking _you_ somewhere that you can't get in the way anymore. I'm breaking up the crime fighting duo. Or, what was it Stiles calls it, The _Stydia_ Detective agency? Hah, pathetic." He glanced at her, hoping to see a good reaction. However, much to his surprise, she was chuckling under her breath, staring at him intensely. On edge, he shifted uncomfortably in the seat, "What's so funny?"

She plastered on her perfected fake smile, head tilted slightly to the side. "I'm just listening to how you're going to die."

His face turned pale and his eyes darted between her and the road. "What?"

Laughing she continued, "Yeah, you heard. Oh this is just great. And so _soon!_ "

The more panicked he got, the faster he drove, "Soon? What's that supposed to mean?!"

Leaning towards him she spoke in a gleeful whisper, "You're running out of time, Theo. You're going to die. And we haven't even got to my favourite part yet."

They were racing along the road now, Theo's panic clearly showing in his erratic driving. "Shut up." He swatted the air next to his ear as though her words were troublesome flies, buzzing around his head. "Shut up, shut up."

"Don't you want to know how it happens? Who does it? That's my favourite bit. It's so ironic."

"ENOUGH!" He yelled at her, the car screeching to a stop as he slammed on the breaks. She chuckled, glad to see that she had managed to stress him out so much. Her gaze shifted from his rage contorted face to the view out of the window beside him. Staring in mild horror, she saw the tall dark gates of Eichenhouse. Eyes locked on the iron gates, she froze, not moving when Theo got out of the car. Throwing open her door he grabbed her, dragging her from the car. Waking up from her stupor, she began kicking and screaming, trying desperately to get away from him. Pulling her close to him, he hissed in her ear, "Don't worry, I called ahead, they're expecting you."

Looking towards the gates, she saw two large men in scrubs waiting to take hold of her. "No!" She screamed, "No you can't do this! I'm not crazy! He's trying to kill us, all of us! Please you have to help me!" She pleaded with the two workers, but they simply stuck in earplugs as she grew nearer. Drawing level with the gates, Theo passed her off to the two men, who took a firm hold of her, one on each side. Struggling in vain, she kicked and thrashed, screaming and crying till her throat was raw. Laughing, Theo waved goodbye to her, calling out as she was dragged up to the menacing building:

"I think I'll go pay Stiles a visit! But of course, _you_ knew that already!" He laughed, but upon seeing her reaction his face fell.

Her face contorted with rage, she screamed. Bursts of energy came flying from her hands, sending the two workers flying off to the sides. Racing towards the gates, she screeched at Theo. To her dismay, the dark gates had now closed between them, preventing her from clawing his eyes out. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" She screamed, satisfied with the look of pure terror on his face. "I swear to God I'm going to kill you. Don't you _dare_ hurt him. Do you hear me? I'LL KILL-" her words were cut off as she yelled in pain, staring in surprise at the taser wand that was pressed into her side. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Theo climbing into his car, speeding off back in the direction of town. Voice raw and cracked, she managed to force out one word, "...no" and then everything turned to darkness.


	23. The Graffiti

Stiles slammed the door of the student councillor's office shut, anger fizzing up inside of him. Who was she to tell him how he felt. The whole thing was so stupid. He didn't need her help, he had Lydia, she was all that he needed. Picking up on this, the woman had suggested that he try branching out slightly more, becoming less dependent on one person. _Stupid_ he thought, throwing his bag over his shoulder and stomping out of the school. _I'm fine. I. Am. Fine._ Perhaps he thought if he told himself the lie often enough, that it would eventually become true. Muttering to himself he hurried out into the parking lot, hoping not to miss the bus. He was just rushing through the large gates when something caught his eye. A car that most definitely should not be there. Slowing to a halt, squinting at the anomaly, he scratched his chin. If he waited around too much longer, he would miss the bus, however, if Lydia's car was still at school, something was wrong. Checking his phone to see if she had texted him, he frowned when he saw that his inbox was empty.

Making his decision he hurried over to her car. What he saw caused the temporarily absent anger to return with a vengeance. Someone had vandalised her beautiful car, writing things like _Psycho_ and _Crazy Bitch_ all over it. The sight could have brought a tear to his eye. What did Lydia do to deserve this? Just as he was about to start trying to rub the marker away, a young looking student stood up from the other side of the car, laughing to himself. Looking closely, Stiles saw a permanent marker held in the kid's hand. Snapping, he ran round the car, grabbing the freshman and pinning him to the side of the car. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He was shouting right in the kid's shocked face.

"Hey man, come on let me go!" The boy squirmed in discomfort, clearly not happy about being caught.

Shoving him harder against the car, Stiles demanded answers, "I _said_ what do you think you're doing?! Why did you write this shit all over Lydia's car?"

Laughing slightly the kid responded, "Didn't you see? She had a total mental breakdown in the middle of school! She's a frickin' psycho!"

Face dropping, Stile's grip slackened slightly, "What?" His voice had moved from yelling to a shocked whisper.

Seeing his reaction, the freshman swore under his breath before saying, "Hang on, you're Stiles right? Of man your girlfriend's a crazy bitch dude!" The kid had wisely chosen that moment to tear himself out of Stiles' grip, taking a few steps back. Had he stayed where he was, his nose would have been very broken.

Glaring at him, Stiles took a step forwards with his fists clenched. "Where is she?"

Raising his hands, the kid replied, "I don't know dude! Some kid called Theo took her home I think."

Exploding with anger, Stiles yelled, "WHAT?!"

"Woah dude! Chill out. I always wondered why Lydia Martin would want to date Beacon Hills High's resident psycho, but now I get it, you're both as deranged as each other! Hey, maybe you can grow old in Eichenhouse together!" The kid ran off, leaving his closing statement hanging in the air around Stiles like a poisonous fog.

He blinked, not bothering to conceal the hurt expression on his face. The words stung. Of course, he knew that word had gotten out about him being in Eichenhouse, hell; some people even had worryingly accurate theories about what Stiles had done during the Nogitsune times, although they didn't know he was being possessed during the whole incident. But to learn that even freshmen were being warned that he was crazy and to be avoided at all costs, that sucked. He sniffed, rubbing the back of his neck in an attempt to un-tangle some of the knots that had gathered there.

Shaking his head, he turned his mind back to the issue at hand. Climbing into Lydia's car, he produced the spare key which she had given him, only to be used in emergencies. "Well, if this isn't an emergency, I don't know what is." He shoved the key into the ignition, forcing the car into life. The familiar hum of the engines filled his head, and he prepared to drive home. For a minute or two he struggled with the automatic driving system, but he quickly got the hang of it, pulling out of the school in no time. Racing home, he ignored every speed limit he came across, purely focused on getting home and making sure Lydia was safe. Finally, he sped around the last corner, home coming into view. Pulling up in the driveway he jumped out of the car and ran to the door. Bursting into the hall he looked around wildly for Lydia. "LYDIA?" He yelled. No response.

Cursing under his breath he sprinted upstairs, racing down the hall and to her bedroom door. Not bothering to knock, he burst inside, looking around wildly for her. Natalie was sitting on her bed, holding one of Lydia's pillows and sobbing. Panic steadily rising, Stiles hurried over to her and knelt down in front of her. "Natalie? What happened? Where's Lydia?" The woman looked up at her, but the sight of Stiles only seemed to remind her of Lydia, and she broke down into more sobs. Before the boy could get too frustrated, there was a cough from the doorway. Looking up, Stiles saw Theo. Insides boiling, he stood up, rushing towards the boy in the doorway. "You. I never trusted you. Where's Lydia!"

Glancing over Stiles' shoulder, Theo spoke quietly, "Stiles your upsetting Ms Martin. Let's talk somewhere else."

Looking around at the sobbing woman, Stiles nodded, pushing past Theo and walking down to the living room. When they arrived, Stiles turned to face him, all of his hatred for the boy directed straight at him. "What. Did. You. Do." It was almost more of a threat than a question. "Where is she?"

Putting on an innocent smile, Theo raised his hands. "I didn't do anything Stiles. This was all you."

Frowning, Stiles took a step backwards, "What?"

"Yeah, that's right. This is all on you Stiles. You helped Lydia tap into her powers, and now they've taken over, she can't stop. She's gone crazy, Stiles. In fact, she forced me to drive her straight to Eichenhouse, checked herself in and refused visitation. I just came by to let Natalie know what happened." He laughed cruelly at the end of his statement. There was no need for pretending to care anymore, Stiles knew Theo was bad, and Theo knew that Stiles knew. However, the devious boy still had a web of lies to weave, it was all part of his plan, and he had to convince Stiles that she was there of her own accord, that it was his fault.

However, the intuitive boy saw right through him, taking a threatening step towards the werewolf. "I don't believe you."

"I don't know what to tell you Stiles. But the fact is, she's in there and she isn't coming out any time soon. And you didn't save her." Theo hissed the last few words as he pushed past Stiles and towards the front door. Lunging forwards, Stiles grabbed Theo's shoulder and pinned him to the wall. Theo laughed harshly, "There he is. Void Stiles. Is this what I had to do to get you to come back? Hurt Lydia? Hah! Too easy. But I'm glad you're embracing your dark side. It suits you." And with that, Theo easily brushed off Stiles, heading out of the door and speeding off down the sidewalk.

Standing frozen in shock, Stiles stared out of the open door. His first instinct was to race to Eichenhouse, to save Lydia, tell them it was all just a big misunderstanding. But what if Theo had been telling the truth, what if Lydia really had lost it? He couldn't tolerate the thought. Grabbing his jacket he rushed out of the door, a twinge of guilt plucking at him when he heard another bout of Natalie's sobs from upstairs. Really he should stay and comfort her, but then again, bringing Lydia home would be the best comfort he could offer her right now. Mind set on his goal, he locked the door, jumping into Lydia's vandalised car. Checking his phone quickly he realised that he had multiple missed calls and texts from Scott, Liam and a few other people, all asking about Lydia. Sighing he turned off the phone before chucking it onto the back seat.

Gritting his teeth he started up the car, driving towards the place that he hated most in the world. Eichenhouse Mental Asylum. He knew the way perfectly, back when he had first checked in, he had spent the car journey memorising the route instead of talking to his dad. It had been easier not to talk. Now however, he wished that his dad was here, with a warrant and a comforting word, a promise that everything was going to be okay. Stiles had come to realise that such promises could never be kept, life inevitably ruined things after a while. Scott liked to call it regression to the mean, things remaining balanced. Stiles usually referred to it as "Life Sucking" or "The supernatural ruining things once again" or something equally as pessimistic. He just couldn't bring himself to have such a positive attitude like Scott did, not after everything that had happened to them, after everything they had lost.

Stirring himself from his gloomy thoughts, he sped up a little, eager to get to Lydia as quickly as possible. The large dark walls appeared in front of him, just as grimy as he remembered. Pulling up on the side of the road he stopped the car, staring out of the window at the tall dark gates. Everything inside of him was begging him not to set foot in the place ever again. But he had to, he had to help Lydia. Taking a shaky breath, he climbed out of the car and walked towards the gates. Staring at the voice box on the wall, he remembered the last time he had pushed that button, waiting to check himself in. Face set with determination, he pressed the button, calling up to the reception desk. There was a mechanical beeping before a man's voice filtered through the metal box. "How can I help you?" He sounded incredibly bored, almost irritated at the interruption to whatever he had been doing.

Clearing his throat, Stiles replied, "I- I'm here to visit a resident." His voice was much shakier than he had expected. This place really messed with his head. After a moment of silence, there was a buzz, and the large gates began to slide open. Shoving his hands into his pockets he hurried up the steps, wanting to spend as little time in the place as possible. Now running, he burst through the reception doors, stumbling up to the desk. "I need to see Lydia Martin." The man looked up at the sudden exclamation.

Staring at Stiles with a dull boredom, he checked something on the computer. "Miss Martin is not allowed visitors as she is showing violent tendencies. You can wait until she is allowed her first phone call, although that is likely to be a few days." Turning back to Stiles, he raised his eyebrows at him, indicating he was done with this conversation.

Growling in frustration Stiles leant over the desk, staring down the receptionist, "Listen, I know she isn't here of her own free will. You're gonna let me see her, discharge her, and we're both going home. Understand?"

Looking unimpressed, the man drawled, "Are you threatening me?"

The phrase jolted a memory in Stiles, back in the hospital last year when the Nogitsune had taken full control over him. It had used his mouth, his voice, to say those exact words to a possible adversary. Everything about Eichenhouse seemed to remind him of those horrid times. Theo's words came back to him, _There he is, void Stiles._ According to Theo, even with the Nogitsune gone Stiles still had evil in him, it was part of who he was and it was what Theo wanted to bring out in him. Taking a step back, Stiles tried to calm himself down, not wanting to let his violent side out any more. "No, no I'm not. Sorry. Look, do you think you could just let me talk to her for one minute?"

Rolling his eyes the man groaned, "Sir, do I need to call security to escort you off of the premises? Miss Martin is not allowed any visitors."

Begging now, Stiles spoke quietly, "Please, come on. Have a heart, let me see her." The man pushed a buzzer, and moments later two large men in guard uniform arrived from a door to the left. Raising his hands in surrender Stiles muttered, "Alright alright I'm leaving. Just, just tell her to call me." Feeling truly defeated, he shuffled towards the doors, closely followed by the two guards. He was just about to exit the lobby when a terrifyingly familiar sound reached his ears. The building wasn't called the Echo House for no reason. Lydia was screaming, only not a Banshee scream, a terrified, heart wrenching screech that tore at his chest. Spinning around he yelled, "LYDIA?! Hey! Let me go!" He fought as the two guards picked him up, dragging him out into the gardens. All the way to the gates he struggled to get free, "What have you done to her? Don't hurt her! LYDIA!" He was thrown through the gates, which clattered shut behind him. Turning around, he rattled the bars, sticking his arms through in an attempt to reach her. One of the guards attempted to push him off but he wouldn't be dissuaded. However, when the second man produced a tazer, Stiles jumped down, oh too familiar with the painful sensation the devise caused.

He stood, glaring at the men. They glanced at each other, smirking cruelly, "We'll be sure to take _extra_ good care of your beloved Lydia." One of them sneered at him, practically spitting the words in his face. Rage taking over him once more, Stiles launched himself towards the man, which gave the other an excuse to press the tazer hard into his side. He yelled in pain, cursing himself for letting them bait him so easily, before falling to the ground in a curled up ball. Panting and wincing and gasping in pain he couldn't even muster the strength to look at them. All he heard was the one with the tazer saying, "And don't come back." He was vaguely aware of something wet –probably spit- landing on his face, but he was too out of it to care. He lay there semi-conscious in the freezing cold for a long time, until eventually Scott found him, heaving him into Lydia's car and turning the heating way up.

Gently he shook Stiles, only then noticing the burn from the tazer and the spit on his face. Wiping away the spit with his sleeve he stared at his friend. "Stiles? What happened?" The boy squinted wearily up at his friend, still suffering from the tazer and the freezing temperatures he had been lying in.

Doing his best to get his words out, his lips fumbled for a moment before managing, "Lydia guards tazer receptionist scream." His sentence made no sense, and it was slow and slurred, but he still gazed at Scott, hoping he would understand.

After a moment of processing, Scott nodded, wrapping his jacket and his hoodie around his friend. "Come on man, we gotta get you home, Natalie was worried about you. We'll save Lydia, don't worry. We just need to make a plan first." Scott laughed a little, and Stiles joined in.

"Ss-suppose bar-ar-arging in-n waaaas-s pretty stuu-u-pid." That was all he managed to say before finally passing out, succumbing to the insistent allure of unconsciousness.


	24. The Banshee

A dull scraping filled the dark room. The window provided no light, and it was covered in greasy bars, slick from all the hands that had rattled them. The walls were constructed of dull grey cement blocks, matching the rest of the institution, dull and grey. The scraping noise was coming from one of the cell's occupants, who was using a particularly long nail to scratch slowly along one of the cracks in the wall. Every so often, she muttered something to herself. Sitting cross legged on the square framed bed, she was quite absorbed in her own little world. When the door clattered open with a harsh bang, and a struggling girl was thrown inside, the strange individual didn't even look up. She simply stared at the crack in the wall, whispering to herself. Much to the newcomer's distress, the door was locked shut, the jarring sound of the sliding bolts filling the room. Sobbing, the new girl slammed her hands into the wall, screaming and wailing, begging to be released.

This was the second room she had been locked in. Originally, the two guards that had greeted her upon her arrival had dragged her stunned body down a maze of corridors until they reached a suffocating dark and small room. Too out of it to resist, she had been strapped to some sort of chair, wired up to various machines. When she finally recovered her speech, she had groggily questioned the people in the room. "Where- where am I? Stiles? Is Stiles alright?"

No response had been given, so she had repeated herself, adopting a more commanding tone. This had not been met well. A man had emerged from the shadows, grabbing her neck roughly and making it difficult for her to breath. Leaning in far too close, his stale breath flooded across her face, "Watch your tone Banshee. I don't take kindly to bad manners."

Gulping, she had nodded her head, spurring the man to release his firm grip on her neck. Looking around, she made to speak, but quickly reconsidered. Taking time choosing her words, she carefully formed what she hoped was an innocent and respectable sentence. "Might I ask who you are?" She was especially careful to keep an even, polite tone.

Chuckling, the man had replied, "Ahh, the girl learns quickly. Well Lydia, it doesn't really matter who I am, what I'm interested in is how you work. From what I hear, you've tapped into your powers, had a little break down did we? I want to see how you control it, tell me how you do it." It was a command not a request.

Pressing her lips together, Lydia thought for a moment, "Well, what do you mean? Why do you want to know? Is there another banshee, someone who needs help learning?"

"Nothing so boring as that. I want to know so I can _control_ it. So I can _control_ death. Now, tell me how you do it." He positioned himself in front of her, staring at her intently.

Frowning in slight confusion, she tried gently correcting him, "But, I can't control death, I can only predict it."

Eyes darkening, the man lurched forwards, hands gripping her forearms tightly, "Don't lie to me Banshee."

Shaking in fear, she burst out, "I'm not lying! It's true I can't control it!" He grunted at her outburst, pushing himself away from her as she let out a fearful, shaky breath.

Stepping in a slow, deliberate circle around her, the man laughed harshly. "You know, that's funny. Because I distinctly remember being shown an excerpt from some weird mythology about Banshees. Do you want to know what it said?" Lydia shook her head slowly, listening carefully to the man's words. "It said, that the Banshee is the messenger of death, an angel of death. Then when I looked a little deeper, I saw that in some stories, the Banshee _is_ death, singling out who will die and who will live."

"What? That's ridiculous! I have read _every_ piece of information on Banshee's and I never saw anything like that!"

Raising his voice in an attempt to regain his control over Lydia, the man grabbed the back of her chair, jolting it uncomfortably, "Well clearly you didn't read this one! A young man by the name of Theo dropped it off for me. _Very_ interesting. It went on for quite a while about the Banshee's ability to control death."

Connecting the dots, Lydia growled in frustration, "It was _fake_! Theo's just using you to get me out of the way. I _promise_ you I can't control it."

Leaning down so that his mouth was by her ear, he whispered, "I don't believe you."

"I swear I'm telling the truth." She held his gaze, defiance blended with honesty blazing in her wild eyes.

Studying her expression for a moment, the man huffed a great sigh, "I've got to say Lydia, I'm disappointed, I expected much more from the famous Beacon Hills Banshee. Oh well, let's see if we can do anything to jog that cloudy memory of yours." He disappeared for a moment, rummaging around just out of her sight, humming an out of place, cheery tune to himself as he worked. Shuffling back over to her, he waved a needle around in front of her. "Do you know what this is?" She shook her head, eyeing the syringe fearfully. With a gleeful smirk, he teased her, "You don't want to hazard a guess? No? Alright then I'll tell you. This is a very powerful hallucinogenic. It's going to take whatever's going on in that head of yours and amplify it by ten. These wires you're connected to are going to let me see what's going on in there, on this screen up here. So, let's get started."

Unable to resist, she tensed up as he pressed the needle into her arm. After the plunger had been pressed, there were a few moments of nothing. However, soon the visions had started. With a jolt, she had been tossed into a new environment, watching scenes unfold as though she were sitting in the cinema. The inner workings of her mind were being broadcast all around her, playing out like a movie. Looking around, she realised she was sitting on a rock inside a musty cave. On closer inspection, she recognised it as Malia's old coyote den. _Strange_ when she thought the words, they echoed around the room in a weird, distorted form of her voice, _I haven't been thinking of Malia._

"No, but I have." A light, bell-like voice appeared right beside her, causing Lydia to yelp in fear and twist her head to try and find the source. What she found only served to confuse her further. A creature, perhaps a woman, stood beside her watching the scene play out. She seemed fragmented, covered from head to foot in a dark, cold fog which worked to conceal her features. Lydia could see dark tatters of fabric hanging off of the skeletal body, and dark straggly strands of hair hung down across the face. Most noticeable was the dampness of the woman, water running down her clothing and dripping onto the floor, only to disappear moments later. Her eyes were also startling, not at all human, rather two bright white orbs where regular eyes should have been. Desperate to put some distance between her and the woman, Lydia tried to move, only to discover that she was still strapped to the chair from Eichenhouse. "You can't get away from me Lydia." The woman spoke again in the same totally out of place, fairy-like voice.

Gulping, the red head stared at her, "Who are you?"

The creature turned it's dripping head to look at her, bright eyes shocking her to the core. "I'm you, Lydia. A part of you at least. I'm the Banshee part of your soul. And what we're about to see, is what I've been thinking about recently, my predictions that I haven't shared with you yet."

Completely dumbstruck, Lydia shook her head, "No, no that's not possible. You can't be a part of me, can't live inside of me, that doesn't make any sense."

Shrugging it's shoulders, the creature turned away from her, focusing on the scene once more. "Oh, this one's sad, I do like this one."

Following the woman's gaze, Lydia looked upon the coyote den once more. Nothing seemed to be happening until Malia stumbled into the den, closely followed by Isaac and then Theo. Malia and Isaac seemed to be in distress, the coyote's blue eyes flashing as she growled aggressively. Theo was shouting about how he didn't need Isaac in his pack, calling him weak and useless. Malia launched herself at him, claws itching to rake down his neck. However he outmatched her, throwing her off to the side before attacking Isaac. Malia landed with a sickening crunch against one of the rocks, neck bent at an impossible angle. Soon Isaac fell next to her, blood flowing from the deep claw marks across his neck. Gasping they stared at each other, Isaac grabbing Malia's limp hand as Theo approached them. Rolling his eyes he turned and left, leaving them to die. Isaac expired first, succumbing to his wounds, but Malia suffered for much longer. Paralysed by her injury, she was unable to call for help or even let go of Isaac's hand. Then when the cold night set in, she felt herself falling further and further into the icy grip of hypothermia, until eventually she too gave up, one final pearly puff of air escaping her blue lips.

Lydia sobbed, "That was horrible, please tell me that isn't going to happen. Tell me there's still time to change it!" She yelled at her Banshee, willing her words to be the truth. The creature simply stared at her, silence speaking for her. Wailing, Lydia bowed her head, "No, no that can't be true. Nothing is set in stone, we can still change it, we just need to warn them. Warn them... I need to get out of here! I have to warn them!"

Shaking it's head, the banshee pointed towards the scene which was dissolving, changing into something new, "We aren't finished yet."

Dragging her gaze back to the events unfolding in front of them, Lydia forced out a whisper, "How many?"

The Banshee's previously sweet voice suddenly gained a devious, hateful lilt, " _All of them_."

"NO!" Lydia wailed, trying desperately to look away, but something was forcing her to stare into the scene before her. Liam appeared out in the woods, ensnared in some werewolf hunter's trap. They circled him, prolonging his suffering cruelly. The apparent leader was explaining how Scott had been stupid to turn Liam, that his IED made him too much of a risk. They don't usually kill children, but with Liam's unusually high count of incidents, it was the only remaining option. Fear spread across the boy's face as he begged for his life, promising to be better, more careful, but the hunters wouldn't listen. They killed him quickly, at least having the decency to make it short.

Heart ripping itself to pieces, Lydia felt the almost motherly protectiveness she had for Liam writhing inside of her. Shaking her head she begged no one in particular, "Please stop this, make it stop!" Turning to the banshee, she pleaded desperately, "Please!"

Tilting it's head thoughtfully, the creature responded, "I can't, I'm a part of you. We're in your mind, so it's up to you to end it."

Lydia's gaze was pulled back to the scene, which had now changed to involve Mason. She couldn't bare it, couldn't stand the thought of watching how all of her friends would die. A sudden realisation hit her. The creature standing next to her was the one who had been plaguing her with these terrible visions, was the very reason she was now trapped in Eichenhouse. Stuck there while Theo might be hurting Stiles. Thinking of Stiles caused all of her anger from before to dissipate, leaving only the warm feeling thinking of him gave her. Turning her thoughts back to how he had taught her control in the first place, she started to formulate a plan to end the horrific movie playing out in front of her. Taking a slow breath, she focussed all of her thoughts on Stiles. Slowly, the scene before her started to deteriorate, a new one taking its place.

Disgruntled, the banshee whipped around to face her, "What are you doing? Stop it!" The creature began to fill her head with thoughts of death, battling her for control over the visions. Remaining steadfast, Lydia pushed away the macabre visions, focussing instead on the thought of adorable, funny Stiles. She seemed to be overpowering the banshee, as the scene before her quickly began to change to a memory. Watching, she smiled as she saw herself arguing with Stiles at the Sophomore prom. There she was, sitting stoically at the table, refusing to give him the time of day. Stiles being brave and outgoing, called her out on her act, seeing right through her armour and staring at who she really was. She laughed as past Lydia corrected him on what sort of Mathematical prize she would be winning, before leading him onto the dance floor. When she saw the little victory dance he did, she giggled profusely, unaware that such an event had even occurred. The memory served its purpose, banishing the Banshee that had been plaguing her thoughts.

As though someone had pulled the plug on a TV, everything around her switched off, the dark room from before materialising around her. The man was sitting behind a computer screen, staring angrily at her, "Well that was sickeningly cute." Although she tried, she couldn't keep the grin off of her face. Rolling his eyes, the man stood, walking to the door and calling two guards in. "Perhaps you'll be more willing to share after a night in the psycho ward, where we keep the _real_ weirdo's. Have a good night." He waved her off as she was dragged from the room, kicking and screaming.

And that was how she had ended up kneeling in front of the door of her new cell, head and hands resting on the cool metal. Hearing the constant murmuring coming from her cellmate, Lydia looked around. The girl had a wiry, twitchy structure to her, looking as though with one quick movement she might break and fall to pieces. Sniffing and standing up, the redhead approached her cautiously. "Are you okay?" Reaching out she rested her hand on the girl's shoulder. Silence fell upon the cell. Eerily slowly, the girl twisted her head to stare at Lydia, who quickly removed her hand. "Sorry, I just- thought that maybe you needed- um- help." Realising where they were, she groaned at how stupid her statement had been. Help was probably the last thing they would receive in Eichenhouse given its track record for abusive orderlies, dodgy medical practices and cruel mental experiments. How the place was allowed to remain in operation, she had no idea.

The girl stared at her for a moment before twitching her nose and speaking in a hoarse whisper, "Lydia Martin thinks we need help. Lydia Martin needs more help than we do. The banshee doesn't know. The banshee doesn't know." The girl was talking quickly, almost chanting, and Lydia was having a hard time keeping up.

"How do you know my name? What don't I know? Who- what are you?"

Muttering ever faster, the girl carried on, "Isla Maverick is a sightseer, Isla Maverick is a sightseer. Isla knows. The banshee doesn't know. The banshee doesn't know."

Frustrated, Lydia took a step forwards, raising her voice, "What don't I know?!"

Eyeing her with interest, Isla stood, holding Lydia's face in her hands. When she spoke, her voice sounded strangely normal, perhaps her regular speaking voice. The message she bore was short but had great effect on Lydia, causing her stomach to flip with an odd mixture of dread and hope:

"How to save her friends."


	25. The Graduation

The football fields were swarmed with a mass of red graduation caps as all of the seniors poured out of the big gymnasium. Graduation was over, everyone was free from school and now all that was left was to say their goodbyes. Blotchy eyed girls with mascara streaming down their faces wailed and hugged each other, while the Lacrosse team all shared 'manly' hugs, saving their emotions for later. Sports forgotten, the field was used to host a huge farewell party, flooded with emotions and celebrations and of course many copies of the yearbooks. For most, the day was a great celebration for making it through high school. However, for Stiles it marked a far gloomier occasion. Yet _another_ important event that Lydia had missed because she was locked up in Eichenhouse, and there was nothing he could do about it. Gloomily he sat on the bleachers by himself, picking away at the tassel on his cap. All in all it had been a really depressing day, one he had been dreading since the start of senior year. Now all of his fears of growing apart from his friends, losing touch, they were all so much more real and possible. Not only that, but his graduation, the day where proud parents sit in a stuffy hall for hours on end just to see their kid on stage getting a certificate for all of a minute, only served to remind him of how parentless he was. Of course, Melissa and Natalie had both been there, being sure to cheer extra loud when he took to the stage. But it wasn't the same. He kept turning in his seat to look for his dad in the crowd, only to remember that he wouldn't be there, that he was gone.

On top of that, the only person who could _really_ make him feel better about all of his loss was Lydia, and now he'd lost her too. Genius that she was, she had been awarded valedictorian, and had been expected to give a farewell speech. Of course that was now impossible, so the school had turned to Stiles, expecting him to take her place. When the principle had asked, he had been astounded. Not at the thought of being valedictorian, but that the Principle had been so thoughtless, so _stupid_ as to take the place of his lost partner. Not wanting to justify the offer with an answer, he had just screwed up his face and stared at the man until he managed to figure it out. One hasty apology later and Stiles could safely sit in the crowd, watching as Kira gave the farewell address. Granted, it was a lovely speech which reduced many to tears, but Stiles couldn't help but feel like Lydia would have done it better.

Now he sat in isolation, the thing he feared most, wishing that he could have his loved ones with him. Scrunching up his hat, he threw it to the ground before burying his face in his hands. Everyone else could enjoy the day, but it just wasn't a possibility for him. Not anymore. Busying himself with being sad, he didn't notice the figure in front of him until a quiet voice spoke up. "Hey." Looking up, he saw Malia gently picking up his cap and dusting it off. Slightly surprised, he responded:

"Hi," then, after a quick glance around he questioned, "Where's Isaac?"

Sitting down next to him, she chuckled, "Trying to get drunk with the Lacrosse guys I think. I'm not sure if he knows that werewolves don't get intoxicated."

"Yeah well, maybe drink isn't such a bad idea." Stiles mumbled it to himself, but he knew Malia would hear him with her heightened senses.

She nudged his shoulder gently, causing him to glance up at her. "Stiles, I know today sucks. And I know a lot of it is my fault and it's totally not my place to say, but I am so so positive that your mom and dad are so proud of you, wherever they are. And yeah, it really sucks not having Lydia here, but just think how great it's gonna be when you get her back. She really loves you you know. A _lot_. I know that we can probably never be as close as we were before, and that's alright, but I just want you to know that I care so much about you, that hasn't changed. And most of all I just want you to be happy. If you need anything ever, like, _ever_ , then please come talk to me because I want to help. I'm a coyote, and you were my mate once upon a time, and coyotes stay loyal to their mates for life. So, even though we're never gonna be a thing again, just know that you are always gonna have a pretty big spot in my heart." She smiled at him, placing his cap softly in his lap.

Stunned, he looked at it for a moment before staring at his friend. "Malia, that was, that was really nice, thank you. I'm impressed to be honest, impressed and proud." He grinned at her and pulled her into a tight hug.

Head resting on his shoulder she murmured, "It was easy really, I just did what you said."

"What? About finding an anchor? I can't really see how this applies in this situa-"

"No Stiles," she cut him off, pulling back from the hug with an exasperated look, "I thought like John Stilinski. Keeping his spirit going is the least I could do all things considered, so I thought like your dad and said what I figured he would have. Is that okay? Are you crying? Oh god I messed it up." She hit her forehead with her palm, furious that she had ruined a nice moment.

Hastily wiping his eyes Stiles laughed, the sound contorted by the tears that had just been falling, "No no it's alright. It just means a lot, you know? I didn't even know that you had come. So, you really think dad would have been proud?"

Glad that he was less emotional now, Malia eased up a bit, rolling her eyes at him, "Of _course_ Stiles! Heck, none of us thought you'd make it this far." She shoved him playfully and he laughed indignantly:

"Hey!"

Sticking her tongue out at him she jumped up from her seat, stepping down onto the pitch. "Got a problem Stilinski?"

Narrowing his eyes at her he jumped down onto the field next to her, devilish smirk on his lips, "Ohhoho I am _so_ gonna get you for that!" He lurched towards her but she nimbly jumped out of the way, laughing at his antics.

"You're gonna have to catch me first Stiles!" And with that she ran off into the crowd, closely pursued by her friend. Eventually she reconnected with the rest of the pack, and everyone laughed as Stiles chased her around a very confused Isaac. Soon, the rest of the group joined in, and they started a massive game of tag out on the pitch. However, eventually the day did have to come to an end. Everyone had to say their goodbyes, turn and face the next chapter of life, and just hope that it was as good as the last. To the pack, it wasn't so much a goodbye rather than a 'see you later'. They all knew that they would be keeping in touch; most of them were going to the same college anyway. Everyone had gathered in a group hug before parting, going their separate ways to head home. Both Natalie and Melissa offered Stile a ride back home, but he politely declined, saying that he would quite like to walk, get some fresh air after the big crowds. Given his history of panic attacks, they both conceded, waving goodbye as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Breathing deeply, he began the walk home. In his head, he was rehearsing all of the ways he could greet Lydia when they were finally reunited. Perhaps he would sweep her up, spinning her round in a hug. Maybe they would just collapse into each other, crying and smiling and holding onto one another for dear life. However it happened, he would just be glad to have his Lydia back. The thought actually brought a smile to his face, and he managed to enjoy some of the scenery around him as he walked back. He was just walking past an alleyway when something, or rather someone caught his eye. Stopping suddenly, he pressed himself to the wall, peering around the corner to see Theo rummaging through something on the ground. The twisted kid had been oddly absent from their lives since the incident with Lydia. Stiles had assumed that it was because he had effectively blown his cover by going after Lydia. He had told Scott everything, and luckily this time his best friend actually believed him, swearing to get back at Theo if he saw him again. Unfortunately for Stiles, Scott was not present. As he was spying, Theo started laughing. Confused, Stiles backed up slightly so that he was once more concealed by the wall. "Really Stiles, you ought to work at being more inconspicuous. Did you think I didn't know you were there?"

 _Shit_ he thought, _crap crap shit crap. Okay, gotta hide, this is bad this is really bad._ Looking around him he spotted another alleyway not too far away on his right. Sprinting for cover he skidded to a halt before dashing down the dark street. As he ran, he caught sight of his graduation gown. Bright red was not the best colour for hiding in the urban environment. Hastily he shrugged it off, looking over his shoulder as he did so, expecting to see Theo rounding the corner at any moment. Tossing the gown to the side, he covered it with some garbage, hoping that it was hidden well enough. Satisfied, he looked down at what he was wearing, and instantly swore under his breath. _Seriously?!_ He thought, silently cursing his choice of bright red hoodie to wear that day. _Okay, we're just gonna have to work with it._ Looking around he jogged down the corridor, hoping to find some sort of escape route. Amidst his scrambling he heard Theo calling out to him from out of sight.

"Is running away your thing now? I have to say, that's quite disappointing, I was hoping to see void Stiles again."

 _Dammit what is wrong with this guy?_ Stiles kept his thoughts inside his head, not daring to speak out loud. The street had led out into a scrap yard full of old vehicles. Sparing a quick glance he wondered if the remains of his Jeep might be lying around anywhere. However, there was no time to linger, so he shook the thought from his head, sprinting instead to a large red truck. Jumping over the bonnet, he landed with a crunch in a pile of old gears. Cursing silently he pressed himself to the side of the vehicle, hoping that he was well enough concealed. It wasn't that he was afraid of Theo, it was that he was afraid of how Theo made him act. He knew that the guy wanted him for something, and whatever it was couldn't be good, so he was making it his mission to stay as far away from him as possible until the pack could take him down. Unfortunately it seemed that time had run out. Peeking over the front of the car, Stiles watched Theo stroll into the scrap yard, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Really Stiles? A junkyard? This is where you want to hide? Alright-" he raised his hands in the air, as though her were surrendering, "-up to you I guess. Well, I know you're listening, so here's the deal. I think that together, you and I would make an unstoppable team. Perhaps we can add Malia into the mix, she seems to have some violent tendencies. What I don't understand is why you're wasting your time in a pack like Scott's, when you could be taking over the whole State working with me."

Frowning at the ridiculous notion, Stiles ducked down again, drowning out what Theo was saying. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his phone. Hastily unlocking the screen he dialled Scott's number. His friend picked up after two rings, as usual, and Stiles whispered hastily into the device, "Scott I have no time to explain. I need you to meet me at the scrap yard on Baker's Street. I'm in a bit of a situation and some help would be nice."

"Calling Scott for help? Oh come _on_ Stiles I thought you could stand up for yourself!"

"Gotta go." Stiles hung up the phone and bit the inside of his cheek. He was just turning back around to peer over the hood of the truck once more when he realised that Theo now stood right beside him.

"Who you looking for?"

Swearing loudly, Stiles stumbled backwards, scrabbling upright amongst all of the scrap metal. Looking around he realised he had cornered himself. Great. Glaring at Theo, he spat out the words, "What do you want from me, Theo?"

Smiling, arms open welcomingly, he responded, "I want you in my pack Stiles."

Tilting his head to the side, Stiles tested the waters, "And, what if I don't wanna be in your 'pack'?"

"Well in that case I'd just have to kill you. Because I can't have you working against me." Theo studied his rapidly growing claws, flashing bright yellow eyes at the boy in front of him.

"Oh, well that's inconvenient." He paused for a moment, unable to resist watching his sarcastic tone sink in, but then he was off. Grunting with effort he leapt into the back of the truck, running across and jumping down on the other side. Looking wildly for some way to defend himself, he spotted an old tool box in the back of the truck. Grabbing the first thing that his hand touched he backed off quickly, putting space between him and the werewolf.

Theo laughed, fangs growing as he advanced towards Stiles, "So this is how it's gonna be huh? Alright then, can't say I didn't warn you." And with that he charged at Stiles, claws reaching out to rake down his chest. However, before the creature could reach him, Stiles swung out with the object in his hand, listening to the painful crunch it made as it collided with his opponent's jaw. Stumbling, Theo fell to the ground, rolling onto his back to stare at Stiles. He spat out blood, laughing at the boy standing over him. "Oh this is just too good. History repeats itself, huh Stiles. Are you gonna kill me too?"

Confused, Stiles looked up at the weapon he was holding above his head, ready to strike with. His stomach dropped when he saw what it was. A wrench. Almost exactly the same as the one he had used to hit Donovan all those months ago. Horrified, he threw it from him, shaking his head, "No- no I'm not a killer."

Standing slowly, Theo shoved his jaw back into place, "Well we both know that isn't true."

Stepping towards him threateningly Stiles pointed at him, "You just shut up, okay?" The words were forced out through gritted teeth, low and menacing.

Not taking kindly to the gesture, Theo grabbed Stiles by the shirt, forcing him backwards until he was pinned uncomfortably against a pile of rusting metal junk. Struggling in vein, Stiles did his best to detach Theo. Each movement dug a different piece of scrap into his sides. One particularly violent jolt dislodged an old axle, and it swung around hitting Stiles square in the face. Spots appearing in his vision, he crumpled to the side, only remaining upright because Theo still had a hold of him. The boy laughed, shaking his head as he shook Stiles, "No no no, Wakey wakey, I'm not done yet. Come on Stiles, we're just getting started."

Groaning Stiles blinked hard, hoping to clear his vision of the troublesome spots. He could already feel the bruises forming on his face, and his left eye had started to swell rapidly. Theo shook him again, shoving him back against the haphazard pile of junk. It was Stiles who noticed it first, the sound of metal scraping against other metal as the pile moved. Looking up, he was just in time to see a long metal pole teeter and then fall off of the top of the pile, headed straight towards Theo. _No_ he thought _not again_. So ignoring his hatred for the guy in front of him, Stiles gathered all of his strength, kicked off against the trash heap behind him and shoved Theo out of the way. The momentum carried them both safely away, and he looked up just in time to see the pole spear itself in the ground where Theo had been moments before.

Totally bewildered, Theo stuttered up at him, "Wha-w-what? Why did you save me?"

Shoving Theo away and standing up, Stiles brushed himself off, "Because, I'm _not_ a murderer. I wasn't gonna let that happen, not again."

"Well that was a stupid move. Should have killed me while you had the chance." Theo jumped up, stomping towards Stiles with his hand ready to strike a killing blow. Accepting his fate, Stiles screwed his eyes shut, hoping that it would at least be quick. However, the claws never came. Instead, a sickening squelch followed by desperate gasping sounded right in front of him. Opening his eyes he gaped at Isaac, who had his claws sunk deep into Theo's chest. Looking past them Stiles saw Scott standing in the background, staring sombrely at the scene before him. A spurt of blood sputtered out of Theo's mouth before Isaac dropped him, and he fell limp and lifeless to the ground.

Shifting back into his human form, Isaac stared at the body before looking at Stiles. "Living with a werewolf hunter taught me a lot, most importantly, how to see a threat that won't go away. When you get a person like that, you have to take them out, no matter what or who they are. That's what Theo was. I'm sorry, I get it if I can't be in the pack anymore, but it had to be done."

Scott walked up to join them, clapping Isaac on the back. "I'm not kicking you out of the pack. You saved Stiles when I just froze up. I think we can both agree that you did the right thing here, right Stiles."

Nodding quickly Stiles spoke up, "Yeah, I do enjoy not being dead. Thanks man!" He pulled a reluctant Isaac in for a tight hug, grabbing Scott and forcing him to join as well.

Squirming slightly, Isaac groaned, "Do you guys always hug this much?"

Plastering on a cheeky grin Stiles looked up at him, "Better get used to it scarfie, you're stuck with us now."

Laughing slightly, Isaac patted him on the head before extracting himself from his embrace.


	26. The Letter

_Tick. Tick. Tick._ The rhythm of the clock was maddeningly consistent. Silently he willed it to fluctuate, to have some sort of variety from the monotonous ticking that filled the room. The source of the noise hung neatly on the wall opposite his bed, a clock with a small pendulum that waved back and forth at him. He'd come to know every detail of that clock, it was a side effect of having stared at it for hours on end. Blinking hard in an attempt to shift his weariness he watched as the hour hand crept towards three. After Lydia's departure he had relapsed into not sleeping, instead sitting on his bed staring at the wall opposite. Now it was three A.M a whole week after she'd disappeared, and he hadn't slept once. He had this constant spinning fear that he'd never see her again. That the last time he heard her voice would be those terrified screams in Eichenhouse. Such thoughts were counterproductive and he knew that, he had tried his best to keep them at bay but they always returned, especially at night. He missed her.

He missed the way that they used to talk to each other through the air vent at night. How he'd fall asleep to the sound of her steady breathing only a wall away. He missed the comfort she provided when his nightmares returned, her soothing tones and warm embrace as she calmed him down. Now the only sound that filled the house was Natalie's poorly concealed grieving, and the damn ticking of that stupid clock. Sighing with a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, Stiles heaved himself up and walked the short distance to the clock. He glared at the polished time piece, one of his eyes beginning to twitch in time with the second hand. "Shut up." He demanded the clock to fall silent, not caring that he was talking to a piece of furniture. Obnoxiously the clock kept ticking.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

Hissing through his teeth he whispered angrily, "Shut up!" he didn't want to wake Natalie, he just wanted the stupid thing to fall silent.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

"Urghhh!" He snapped, grabbing the clock and hurtling it across the room. It hit the wall above his bedside table with a splintering crack, hitting the photo frames on the table as it fell to the floor. Staring at the broken time piece he stood panting for a moment, trying to regain control over his emotions. "I'm going crazy. I- I am completely insane. What the hell is wrong with me?" Groaning he buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes and slapping his cheek lightly in an attempt to waken himself up. With a loud sniff he looked up once more, shuffling over to inspect the damage. The clock was shattered into several pieces on the carpet, broken beyond repair. Crouching down he began picking up the pieces, fitting them together in his hands like a puzzle. "At least it's not ticking anymore." He sighed before tossing the pieces onto his bed. Turning his attention to the bedside table, he set about rearranging the fallen photographs. One by one he picked them up, setting them down exactly where Lydia had originally put them. Surprise jolted him for a moment when he came to Lydia's drawing of the Nemeton. There was a folded up piece of white paper taped to the back. Originally the picture had lived at his old house, on his desk. On the back he had stored a letter that he had written to Lydia, expressing all of his feeling for her. He had never planned to give it to her, he just wanted to have it all written down in case anything ever happened to him before he could tell her. He had used his best handwriting to scrawl, "For Lydia" on the little piece of folded up paper. However, when he picked up the frame to look more closely, his fingers went numb. Instead of his messy writing on the paper, there were Lydia's neatly penned letters which spelled out, "For Stiles."

Face locked into an expression of shock, he closed the small distance between himself and the carpet, sitting with a thump of the ground. Cross legged beside his bed and still clutching the frame in his lap, he resembled a child on Christmas morning. With shaky hands he reached down, gently peeling the tape from the letter. Painstakingly slowly he unfolded the paper, heart rate increasing with every movement. Finally he held the fully open letter in his hands. At first he couldn't bring himself to read it, simply sitting and staring at the elegant writing that filled the page. However, his curiosity inevitably got the better of him and he held it close to his face so that he could read it. He imagined her voice dictating the words to him:

 _Stiles._

 _I'm not very good with words, and I'm not very good with relationships or love either. I went through most of my life pretending to be dumb for other people, kidding myself into believing that I was in love with people I hated. My entire existence was a complete lie and I lost myself somewhere along the way. I was afraid that I was never going to find that girl again. But then I got my own personal miracle. Some weird, dorky kid with big brown eyes snowballed into my life and made me question everything I was doing. Stiles, when I first started spending time with you I was really thrown by you, because I had spent years and years building this character that everyone else believed, but you saw straight through it. I really wasn't sure how I felt about that until we went ice skating with Scott and Alison and you started talking about perfect combinations. I shrugged it off at the time, but you made me realise that what I had with Jackson and all of my friends was the complete opposite of that. I changed who I was for them and hated the end result. But with you I could be smart, and interested in things, I could talk to you about science or fashion and I knew that whatever it was you would listen because you genuinely cared about what I had to say. Then Alison set us up for Prom –we have so much to thank that girl for- and it was another one of those startling moments that I realised how well we fit together. I was so busy playing queen bee that I never saw you coming. You called me out on my crap and got me to dance with you. You told me I was smart, made me believe that I could actually do something with my brains rather than my beauty. I haven't won that Fields Medal yet, but when I do I'm gonna want you sitting in the front row._

 _After that, there were just all of these little moments between us, and I didn't realise what was happening until it was too late to stop it. I was best friends with Stiles Stilinski. I wanted to be_ more _than best friends with Stiles Stilinski. Being with you made me feel warm and bright and safe, and whenever we were apart I found myself craving your company. Who else could match me intellectually? You know I love our friends dearly but none of them could really keep up, if I wanted a challenge of a conversation there was only one guy I could turn to. I never planned to fall in love with you. In fact, it caught me totally by surprise. One moment I was fine, and the next I had fallen head over heels for my best friend. Since then I've never wanted to be apart from you, I wanted to be there to make you laugh and smile and to listen when you needed to be angry or sad. Alison once asked me if I remembered what it was like to be in love. She just gave me this look, and started describing this amazing sounding thing. "Remember what it feels like. All of those times in school when you see him standing down the hall and you cannot breathe until you're with him, or those times in class when you can't stop looking at the clock because you know he's standing out there waiting for you. Don't you remember what that's like?" And I had to say no, because I'd never felt anything like that. But you know, if she were to ask me again, if she_ could _ask me again, I would say yes. Yes I know exactly what you're talking about because I feel like that every day. Every single day. And she'd laugh and stare at me and ask who could possibly make me feel like that, and when I tell her it's you, she would have the biggest smile on her face. Because she always wanted us to be together you know? She was certain it would be a perfect combination. Now I know she was right._

 _Enough about me though. I want you to know a few things. First of all, I love you. So much it scares me. But I do, I love you with my entire being, and when I'm not around you you're all I can think of._

 _Second, I will always believe you, I will always believe in you. No matter how horrible or wretched or terrifying you think I might find something. Tell me. Tell me because I want to be there to hold you and tell you that things are going to be okay, that you aren't a monster._

 _Which brings me to number three. You are not a monster. You never were and you never will be. You have so much goodness inside of you that the light it makes is blinding. No matter what dark thoughts or cruel words work their way into your mind, remember this: You are good. You are human. You are not a monster. You are not your demons. Your demons do not define you. I mean, your Stiles frickin' Stilinski! Come on! You are the brightest, loveliest, kindest and bravest soul I have ever had the fortune of meeting._

 _Lastly, if anything were ever to separate us, if the universe is suckish and cuts our time together short, then just know that every single second was amazing, and totally worth the wait. But please, don't get all heroic and risk your life for me, because I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt because of me._

 _Anyway, I've rambled for too long. I love you._

 _Lydia_

For once, Stiles' hands stopped shaking. Her words had paralysed him, a delicious stillness that filled every inch of him with bliss. Never in a million years would he have expected Lydia Martin to write him that note. If he didn't know her handwriting by heart, he wouldn't have been sure it had actually come from her. A smile inched its way across his face, softening his weary features into a relaxed grin. "I love you too Lyds." Somehow saying the words to the empty room made him feel better, he hoped that wherever she was in that hellhole of an asylum, that she would hear his thought and be comforted. _Comforted?_ Eyebrows pressing together, he glared at his own complacence. Carefully setting the note down on his bedside table, he scrambled up gripping the bed sheets for leverage. _Of course she won't be comforted! She's in Eichenhouse! What have I been doing just sitting around here moping when she's in there all alone?!_ The thoughts chased each other frantically around his head. Each lap they made caused another spasm of surplus energy to race across his body."Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He berated himself quietly, pacing his room before slowing to a halt in front of his investigation board.

He and Scott had been writing out various plans to break Lydia out, but so far none had been promising. Their most recent attempt was scrawled in the bottom right corner of the Perspex. Although unfinished, the plan had promise. His hand dashed up to his mouth gripping his chin like a vice, his indecision causing his body no end of restless discomfort. Now that the ticking of the clock had ceased, he had no way of knowing how long he had been standing there before he came to a decision. _I just have to save her, I can't leave her there alone, not again._ The thought sent an unnatural stillness through his body, and he took a quivering breath before jumping into action once more. Taking three hasty steps he arrived at the door, reaching to his left to grab Lydia's car keys out of the little porcelain bowl he kept them in. A little screech escaped the bowl as the keys scraped the glaze. Wincing at the sound, Stiles shoved the keys in his hoodie pocket before throwing his bedroom door open.

"OHMYGODAHHHUHHH" Surprise causing him to step back, he caught his foot on his own heel, sending himself sprawling to the ground. Hand on his chest trying to still his racing heart, he glared up at Scott. "Dude! What the hell?"

Laughing, Scott stepped forwards, offering his hand to help Stiles to his feet. "Going somewhere?"

Brushing himself off the boy nodded a little too eagerly, "Yeah, uh, yeah I thought I'd go on a walk!"

"With Lydia's car keys?" Scott quirked an eyebrow, fixing his friend with an amused stare.

"Yes! Wait, no! Aww crap." Hanging his head in shame at being caught, he risked a glance up at Scott.

The Alpha was simply staring sadly at him, the previous trace of humour gone from his warm gaze. "Stiles, we've talked about this. You can't just run off and try to save her, not on your own, and not yet."

"What? Have you all got me on 24 hour surveillance or something! Scott this is ridiculous!" The sudden outburst of anger had sucked all of his energy, and he rapidly deflated, sad eyes fixed wearily on his friend. "I miss her Scott. She must be so scared in there all on her own. Please, I just- I just need- I need to save her Scotty."

Seeing his friend looking so broken tore at Scott's heart, so he stepped forwards and enveloped Stiles in a warm hug. "I know buddy. But we're going to get her out of there. _Together._ But just not tonight. I promise we'll get her out. But right now? You need to sleep, come on." Turning Stiles around, he shoved him gently in the direction of the bed. Groggily the boy climbed in, sinking deep into the soft covers. With a yawn he blinked slowly at Scott before letting his eyes close completely. Just before he fell asleep, he sighed out a few words:

"Thanks, Scotty."

 **A/N:**

 **I am so so sorry it's taken so long to update! I moved to University a few weeks ago and I just totally got caught up in the whirlwind and had no time to write! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I'm going to try and be more regular with my updates from now on :)**


	27. The Dead

She was standing in a scrap yard. Eyes red raw from crying, throat torn from all of her screams. Barely a whisper, she begged the doctor to stop. "Please," she moaned, "I don't want to watch this, not again. I promise you I don't know anything." A hiccupping sob almost escaped her and she had to bite down on her lip to stop it from turning into a full blown wail. She couldn't watch this scene unfold, not again. The first time she had seen it, she was sure it was fake. But then the feeling started growing, and she couldn't deny it's presence. The feeling that someone was going to die. _He was going to die._ Every time she watched the footage, the feeling grew in her chest until she couldn't contain it any longer. She would always scream right when it happened. At the very moment when Stiles died.

Theo had tracked him down and boxed him into a scrap yard. Stiles was so smart, and he fought so hard to survive. But then he turned his back for just a second, and Theo was on him. She had to watch as Stiles screamed in horror, the terrified look on his face as the werewolf tore into him. Their emotional tether meant she felt his pain in every blow that hit him. It took him _so long_ to die. "Why." She shook as she spoke, due to a cocktail of anger, fear and exhaustion. "Why are you making me watch this again. He's dead, isn't that enough?"

"Not until you tell me how to do it. Lydia I know you know. Theo said-"

"THEO LIED!" she yelled into the vision, making the edges warp slightly. Blinking, she realised the powers she had been neglecting. Screwing her eyes shut she took a deep breath and screamed. The scene warped and dematerialised, returning her to the small dark room where she was strapped to a chair. The man who constantly questioned her stood bent over, hands covering his ears. A small trickle of blood made its way past his fingers and down his jaw line. Hissing in pain he glared at her.

"I thought I warned you not to do that." Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the taser that she was growing increasingly familiar with. Fear sparked inside her and she began struggling against the restraints. Before, she had tapped into her powers when thinking of Stiles. But he was dead. How was she going to protect him when he was already dead? Just before the orderly reached her, she heard a distant shout echoing through Eichenhouse.

"LYDIA?"

Her heart jolted against her ribs. It couldn't be. Couldn't possibly be him, not Stiles. But sure enough the call came again, this time sounding a lot closer. Hope flurried inside of her and she turned a wicked grin to the orderly. Facing her palms towards him, she whispered, "Fuck. You." Then she screamed. The wave of prickly hot electricity burst from her hands and hit him square in the face. Feeling strength pulse through her, she pulled hard against the restraints, snapping them with ease. She was so shocked at how easy her escape seemed that she couldn't help but laugh. Smile on her face she kicked open the door and stumbled out into the hallway. Casting a wary glance left and then right, she followed the sound of her best friend's voice. "Stiles? STILES!" Joy pricked her eyes and she was crying all over again. There he was. Right there, standing at the end of the corridor, looking tall and lanky and dorky as ever. He smiled at her, beckoning her to him with a finger held on his lips.

Laughing and crying she tripped and stumbled towards him, so glad that the whole ordeal was finally over. She was safe, he was safe, and they were together. Just before she reached him, another body walked around the corner. She had to do a double take. "Ethan?" Had the surviving twin really come back to help save her? But then she saw the lump on his nose where he had been punched before he could heal. The lump that only Aiden had. For a moment, joy froze her, and before confusion could seep in, another figure also appeared. Her heart melted. Alison. "Alison? I can't believe it's you! I've missed you so much, oh God I'm so happy to see you!" All three of them smiled, but something wasn't right. The smiles weren't how they should be. Not warm and kind, but something almost sadistic. Realisation hit her with a sickening smack. "This isn't real. You're not real. You- you're all dead." Her voice wavered and cracked into silence at the end of her sentence as she made eye contact with Stiles. His eyes didn't hold the same warmth as Stiles' had either. "You. Are not. Stiles." She blinked, and three orderlies now stood before her.

"Nope." The one that had appeared as Stiles lurched towards her, jabbing a taser into her side. Yelping in pain and sorrow, she crumpled to the ground. From there, her memories were blurred. She caught sight of a door or wall occasionally, the bright lights on the ceiling hurting her head when she looked up. The first solid memory she had was waking up back in her room, tied to the bed with the five point restraint system Stiles had told her about. She didn't have the heart to struggle. In fact, she felt as though her heart was gone completely. _How cruel_ she thought _how- why would they do that. Isn't it enough that they're all gone?_ Every time she closed her eyes, Stiles' face danced into her vision. Each time she opened them, she thought she spotted him walking past the door, or the window, or sitting on the end of her bed.

The ordeal repeated itself multiple times until even the slightest sight of Stiles terrified her, sent her into a fit of screams or a catatonic state that she would not recover from for hours. Her cell mate watched intently, studying the Banshee like a science project. The girl jumped as Lydia gasped, jolting awake where she lay. In a panic, Lydia thrashed her head from side to side, gaze eventually falling on Isla. "Does the Banshee know how to save her friends?"

"Shut up." She fixed Isla with a glare so deadly it could have withered grass.

"Does the Banshee know how to save her friends?"

"NO! Of course I don't know because for _some_ reason you _refuse_ to tell me!"

Smiling slightly, Isla walked over to stand next to Lydia, something about her demeanour becoming instantly comforting. "Because-" she soothed, "The Banshee doesn't _need_ to save her friends. A new face and now they're safe. A new face and now they're safe. They don't need saved anymore."

"What?" Lydia's eyes bulged out of her sallow face, emaciation turning her once beautiful face into something skeletal and frightening.

Before Isla could answer, the door burst open to reveal a very angry orderly. "That's enough of that, I think!" Storming in he grabbed Isla by the wrist and began dragging her towards the door, "Think it's time we found you a new cell, Maverick, don't you?"

Struggling against him to get back to Lydia, Isla began shouting, "The Banshee must escape. Escape Lydia! The Banshee must escape!" And then she was gone, the door slammed shut leaving Lydia alone in the cell. Alone, but no longer hopeless.


	28. The Attempt

**A/N: So I know it's been a while since an update and I can only appologise! Life got really busy all of a sudden and I just couldn't keep updating under the circumstances. I know you probably don't want to read a big authors note, and you'd rather just get to the chapter. If that's the case please do, however I'd appreciate it if you gave this a quick read. Now this isn't a particularly cheery topic so sorry about that in advance:**

 **I recently lost one of my oldest friends. It came as a total shock and I've been sort of at a loss of what to do since then. Her name was Kelsey and she was the most amazing friend I could have asked for. She was always honest and incredibly loyal, and even though we maybe didn't talk as much as we used to, I still considered her to be one of my best friends. She had struggled a lot with suicidal thoughts and behaviour in the past, and I always tried to help her out when those days occurred. As time went on she stopped talking to me about it and seemed a lot happier, so that's what I thought she was. When I got the call saying that she had killed herself, I basically refused to accept it. I kept saying "I thought we made it" because I thought we had. Now this isn't a sob story for me, this is a PSA to anyone out there who struggles with suicide, or knows someone who does. Please, please, talk to someone, anyone. I know you might feel like your bothering your friends (certainly, that's how I've felt the past few weeks) but if they are your true friends they will care about you and want to help! And to everyone in general, please take the time to tell the people you love that you love them. I am haunted by the words I didn't say to Kelsey. If you're thinking of sending a face book message, don't decide against it because you can't be bothered. Have that conversation. I stared at the green facebook messanger dot the night she killed herself and thought about messaging her, but chose against it. And now I can't help but wonder if I had, maybe things would have turned out differently. However, I just wanted someone to know what an amazing person Kelsey was, and that she always encouraged my writing and inspired me in what I do. 18 years is far too little life to have had, and it's far too young to have to attend your best friends funeral. So please, if any one is ever having issues or needs someone to talk to, send me a message if you don't want to talk to anyone else. 0% judging, I will listen to you and chat to you and do my very best to make you feel better. No problem is too small or too big. I love you all and I hope that you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about any problems, I don't want to lose any more friends. To quote Stiles, "Death doesn't happen to you. It happens to everyone around you. Okay? (It happens) to all the people left standing around at your funeral trying to figure out how they're going to live the rest of their lives now without you in it." I lost my Stiles, don't let go of yours!**

 **Anyway, enough sad stuff (or at least real sad stuff) for now. I hope you enjoy the chapter** **J**

He couldn't help himself. Try as he might, he couldn't resist the urge. Most days, he managed to distract himself for a little while, talking to Scott or spending time with Natalie cleaning up the Lake House. Even in those blissful distracted moments however, the dark thoughts lurked at the edges of his subconscious. _Echo House_. The thought reverberated around his head in a hushed whisper. Freezing for a moment, he stared blankly at the wall he was painting. His hands were shaking, the cream paint that he had sloppily dipped his brush in now dripping onto the polished wood floor. "Stop it." He scolded himself, in a whisper low enough so that Natalie wouldn't hear him from across the hall. "Stop thinking about it. Just- _concentrate_ on what you're meant to be doing." Breathing heavily through his nose, he screwed his eyes shut and counted to three in his head. Slowly his focus returned to him, and soon he felt ready enough to open his eyes.

Blinking in surprise, he realised that his forehead was pressed against the wet paint on the wall. He hurriedly lurched backwards, wiping the paint off on his sleeve whilst looking around to make sure Natalie hadn't noticed his odd behaviour.

"Stiles?" Although gentle, the voice directly behind him made him jump, scrambling away from the perpetrator.

Running a hand through his hair nervously –and leaving streaks of paint on more than a few strands- Stiles looked across at Natalie, "Hey uh- yes. Um, what're you doing there Natalie?" His eyes flicked rapidly across her expression, trying to decode what she was thinking.

"Wondering what you were doing there." She pointed first to the wall, then to the paint on the floor, and finally to the paint in his hair.

Looking around at his mess he puffed out his cheeks, screwing up his nose and squinting at her from the floor, "Uhhh yeah... sorry- about- uhh- about that" He waved a haphazard arm behind him at the mess, somehow managing to knock over the paint tin that sat next to him. "OH GOD nononononono-" he scrambled into action, grabbing the tin and sitting it upright before staring in horror at the rapidly spreading pool of viscous white paint. Watching as it raced along the grain in the wood floorboards, he faltered, unsure of how to solve the problem. Desperate, he began pulling off his shirt, ready to sacrifice it to mop up the paint disaster.

Half laughing, half shouting, Natalie threw out her hand, "Stiles no! Look here's a cloth to clean it up with." He stared at the neatly folded cloth in her outstretched hand, jumping slightly when she added, "And for goodness sake put your shirt back on."

Gulping and nodding at an alarmingly quick rate, he pulled the grey top back over his head before grabbing the cloth and trying to clear up the spillage. "I am so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Aww no- Natalie it's everywhere- I'm so so sorry." Hands now covered in paint he desperately scrubbed at the floor, creating great arcs of streaking paint on parts of the floor that had been clean until then.

Watching the boy in front of her struggle in vein, Natalie sighed, "Stiles,"

"I am such an idiot I-"

"Stiles!" she cut him off, kneeling down beside him so that he had to look her in the eye. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from talking. "Look, let me clean this up. Maybe you should take a little break? You seem a bit stressed."

Raising his eyebrows he looked away, muttering under his breath, "Stressed is an understatement."

"Stiles." She reprimanded him again, her tone kind but very stern. "Take, a, break." Smiling at the end of her statement, she stood up, offering her hand to help him to his feet as well.

He was about to insist he kept working when a thought struck him, sending shivers of adrenaline through his muscles. "You know what, yeah. I think I do need a break. Hey-" he waved his arms, speaking far too enthusiastically to be considered normal, his face plastered with a jolly mask, "I know! We're gonna need more paint considering I knocked over that tin! I'll run to the store and grab some."

Frowning slightly at his sporadic behaviour Natalie began to resist the idea, "Stiles, I don't think-"

"Great!" He gave her a thumbs up, shuffling towards the door as he spoke, "I'll be back in like, ten minutes tops." Grabbing Lydia's car keys from where he had placed them on the hall table, he bolted out of the door, ignoring Natalie's feeble call after him. Feet crunching on the gravel driveway, he skidded and nearly fell over, coming to a stop outside Lydia's little blue car. The paintwork still showed scars from all of the graffiti. No matter how much he had buffed and polished the exterior, some of the marks just wouldn't come out. He also hadn't thought to buy new paint for the area's which he had worked on, so it was now a patchy, ugly sight. Thinking of how she would react, he winced and pressed his lips together, her furious tone echoing in his head. Shaking it off, he clambered in the driver's side, shoving the keys into the ignition and starting up the vehicle. Looking up he saw Natalie standing at the door, paint sodden cloth still gripped in her hands. Doing his best to reassure her, he rolled down the window and shouted "Ten minutes! I promise!" And then he carted out of the driveway, a little more roughly than he would normally, even with his erratic driving.

By now he was used to driving Lydia's car, and he cruised down the road to Eichenhouse with equal familiarity. "Agh what am I doing?" He shouted to himself, turning to the right suddenly, causing his whole body to swing sideways. Shaking his head he carried on, muttering as he drew closer and closer to the nut house. "I'm not going inside." He was almost lecturing himself, quoting from the many speeches he had received from Scott and the pack. "It's stupid to try and save her on my own. There's nothing I can do but wait." Seeing the tall black gates materialising in the distance, he gulped. Breathing out shakily he began to question just how good on an idea this had been. A chill shiver trickled down his neck, quickly enveloping his whole body. Hand trembling ever so slightly, he turned off the engine. He sat, leaning forwards and peering out of the windscreen for quite some time, unsure of whether he could resist going inside if he were to exit the car. Daylight was rapidly fading, and the cold was creeping inside of the car, turning his breath into pearly clouds of mist.

Lifting his hands to his mouth, he rubbed them together, blowing hot air into them. His limbs had grown stiff from waiting, and his leg cramped up as he tried to stretch. "OH GOD AHHHAHHH" He flailed, fumbling with the door handle, finally managing to burst the door open, only to discover that he had neglected to take off his seatbelt. He was yanked backwards, which only served to worsen the growing pain in his leg. Swearing loudly he punched the belt buckle, which sprang open, nearly hitting him in the face on the way past. Glaring at it sternly for a moment, he then hopped out of the car and tried to stretch out his cramp. Facing the dark street opposite the echo house, he felt the pain begin to ease. Staring at a nearby tree, he could have sworn he saw a beam of light dance across it briefly. "What the-" brow furrowed in confusion, he spun slowly on the spot to look back at Eichenhouse. Indeed, several beams of light were dancing around, moving rapidly but in an organised manner. Squinting, he thought he could make out several shapes. "Torches? What the hell is going on?"

Then, a scream.

Jolted with shock, he stumbled around the front of the car, hurrying into the road. Headlights blared and a car horn crashed in his eardrums. Scuttling to the other side, he only just got out of the way in time. Unfazed, he ran right up to the gates, hands wrapping around the slick black bars. They were so cold they stung his skin, biting into his palms like guard dogs. He did not notice. He was in a trance, he _knew_ that scream, there was only one person it could be. And then, there she was. Lydia. The sight horrified him at first. She was skeletal, matted oily hair whipping around her as she spun from side to side. Her eyes were sunken and dark, and from what he could see her usually beautiful face was now quite frightening. Frozen in a mixture of awe and dismay, he watched as she confronted a guard. "Oh no," he whispered to himself, "Lydia watch out, what are you doing?" When she began attacking the man, he could have fainted where he stood. She was throwing kicks and punches, yelling with force each time she hit a blow. It actually looked like she was winning. He couldn't help but punch his hand in the air, jumping in glee at her victory when she knocked him down. Wild and dangerous, she spun around, focusing her fury on another adversary. Soon enough he too had been knocked down. His hopes were lifting, maybe he wouldn't have to rescue her, maybe she could escape on her own, right now. "C'mon Lydia. C'MON!" He yelled the last part, ripping his throat with the effort. For a moment she paused, staring in his direction. He wasn't sure if she could tell it was him, or if he was just a dark figure in the distance. Either way, it seemed to have some sort of effect on her. Just not the one he was hoping for. She screamed, sorrow and fear and hatred all bundled up into one glass shattering sound.

The two guards closest to her were knocked back, landing a few feet away in either direction. Walking towards him at an alarming rate, she snarled rabidly at anyone who came to close. She was at the top of the steps, only ten meters away from him, when a figure appeared behind her. She screamed, falling to her knees in pain. Dismay flooded his eyes as he saw the taser pressed into her back. "NO!" Another painful, throat ripping scream from Stiles.

Almost as if in response, Lydia moaned, "Please! I have to tell them! My friends, they're all going to die."

And then she fell to the ground, eyes staring blankly towards Stiles. Rage boiling his thoughts to nothing he screamed, banging on the bars and yelling at the guards. "LET HER GO!" He yelled, rattling the gate till it threatened to come apart in his hands. Rolling his eyes, one of the guards stomped towards him.

"HEY!" he shoved Stiles backwards, away from Lydia, "Cut that out, now! Unless you want locked up on this side, I suggest you go home."

Fury oozed out of his every movement as he slowly advance towards the guard, fist shaking as he pointed at him, "You- you can't keep her here forever. I swear to God if you hurt one strawberry blonde hair on her perfect head, I won't hesitate to shove your taser so far up your-"

"ENOUGH!" Yelled the guard, buzzing the taser dangerously close to Stiles' face. "I suggest if you don't want to be re-acquainted with the taser, then you should go home. NOW. Or should I call the police? Daddy isn't there to get you out of trouble any more, is he? I wonder how long they'd lock you up?"

Stiles was now so angry that it consumed his every thought. He couldn't even form words any more. Knowing that anything else but leaving would only get him into trouble, he forced himself to back away from the gate, turning his back on Eichenhouse and stomping over to Lydia's car. He threw himself in the driver's seat and sat, simply shaking with rage. Breathing deeply for a long time, he finally felt calm enough to drive back home. However, he did not take the series of turns and junctions that would lead him to the Martin house. Instead he found himself stumbling out of the car and climbing the familiar wall that led to Scott's window. Once on the balcony outside of his room, he banged several times on his friend's window. Bleary eyed and sleepy, Scott pushed it open, "Stiles? What are you doing here?"

"Scott-" he was nearly crying with a mixture of heartbreak and anger, still shaking violently as he spoke, "Scott we have to do this now. I can't take it anymore. And I think I have a plan."


	29. The Act

"Stiles, are you sure about this?" Scott stared at his friend intently, eyes attempting to pierce through his determined demeanour.

Rolling his eyes for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes, Stiles nodded dramatically, "YES no would you stop that?" Shaking his head, Stiles walked over to Scott's closet, throwing the rickety wooden doors open and grabbing a pair of sweatshirts. One for Scott, one for him. It had been bright sunshine and warm winds when he had gotten dressed that morning, but now the icy chill of evening was setting in, and he found himself shivering slightly. He refused to admit to himself that it was because he was scared, no, he was simply cold. Struggling with it for a moment, he eventually pulled the green jumper over his head, fixing the sleeves as he turned back to face Scott. His friend was holding the jumper Stiles had thrown at him, still staring intently at the boy in front of him. Glaring in frustration Stiles nearly shouted, "Oh my God would you stop that!"

Nose wrinkled in confusion Scott blinked at him, "Stop what?" As he waited for a response, he pulled the extra layer over his head.

"THAT!" Stiles gestured wildly to his friends face, fingers moving accusingly between his eyes and nose. "Stop trying to read me. I know what I'm saying and I know the risk."

Sighing, Scott knew his friend was telling the truth. He could see his friend shaking, he could practically taste the tangy mixture of fear and adrenaline, but it was overruled by the steadfast determination that hung around Stiles' body. Rubbing a hand across his sleepy eyes he groaned, "There's no talking you out of this then?"

"Nope." Stiles crossed his arms, bobbing up and down on his toes in agitation. "And we need to go now. Like right now." Each moment they wasted talking was another moment Lydia spent alone in Eichenhouse, another moment when he wasn't doing everything he could to save her. Watching her get so close to escaping had broken his heart, and it also made him wonder just how many times she had attempted it. Maybe she gave up on them, got fed up with waiting and resigned herself to the fact that they weren't coming. The thought agitated him even further, he felt like he was betraying her by standing still. Rubbing his hands together he headed towards the door, "C'mon lets go."

Scott moved to speak, thought better of it, and then changed his mind again, voice quiet, barely a sigh in the quiet bedroom, "Stiles we can't-"

"WHY NOT?" he couldn't help it. Stiles yelled at Scott, a glint of the boxed in anger he usually hid so well seeping to the surface. The veins in his neck bulged as he yelled, and his face grew red rapidly. Scott flinched, staring at Stiles in shock. Seeing his best friend retreat from him chilled Stiles, soothing his rage into an icy cold layer of guilt. "Scott- Scott I'm sorry. I just- I need-" he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the floor.

Scott's shoulders lowered slightly, and a small puff of air escaped his lips, releasing the tension all across his body. "I get it Stiles, I really do, but just stop for a minute and think?"

No energy left to be angry, Stiles' voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, quivering slightly with emotion. "I have been thinking Scott. All I've done for the past month is think. I'm done thinking, okay? I have thought and now I need to act. I know what I'm risking and I'm willing to do it to save our friend." He was still staring at the floor, he felt as though he were a schoolboy in trouble, trying to explain himself to a teacher.

For a moment Scott paused, torn between the fear of losing Stiles and the urge to save Lydia. Clenching his jaw he reached out placing a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Okay." Body frozen in shock, Stiles' head shot up, his face plastered with surprise. With a smile Scott raised his other hand, signalling for Stiles not to interrupt. "But, I have one condition. You aren't going alone. We'll both do it, and I think Liam and Isaac should come too."

A frown pulling at the corners of his lips, Stiles squinted at his friend, "Why them?"

"Well Malia refuses to set foot in Eichenhouse, and last time Kira was there, things didn't end too well. Hayden and Mason are great kids, but they just don't know what they're doing quite yet. We'd have to worry about looking after them as well as everything else."

Stiles raised his eyebrows and nodded in agreement, "Good point. Right then, let's go."

"Go where?" Liam and Isaac chorused together from the doorway, jostling slightly with each other for the prime spot. Scott and Stiles stared incredulously at each other before turning in unison to face the pair.

One hand on his hip and the other pointing accusingly at the pair, Stiles asked, "Just how long have you two been listening in on us?" His finger jumped between the pair, and he fixed them with a steely, if not slightly amused frown.

Both boys stood frozen for a moment, guilt pulling them to a standstill. However, the younger of the pair seemed to get over it remarkably quickly, and Liam piped up with an eager smile, "Isaac called me as soon as he heard you come in the window. He was worried you guys were gonna fight again."

Glaring at the shorter boy, Isaac punched his shoulder and muttered to himself, "Yeah and I'm seriously starting to wish that I hadn't."

Laughing, Stiles pouted his lips, "Aww, was Isaac worried that mommy and daddy were gonna break up?" He was bent double, hands on his knees as though he were talking to a very small child, grin threatening to split his face in two.

Isaac rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort, but when no answer came he simply laughed bitterly and looked away, opting instead to shove a hysterical Liam off of his feet. Scott chuckled slightly before a look of confusion and concern set on his face, "Wait, which one of us is the mommy? Oh god I'm not the mom am I?" His head whipped around, looking between his three friends for some sort of confirmation.

Stiles stared at him, making no effort to hide the exasperation on his face, "It was a _joke_ Scott. Neither of us is the mom _or_ the dad."

Shaking his head slightly, Scott laughed, "Yeah yeah, of course!"

"Well- now that that's sorted, can we go?" Liam was bouncing impatiently at the door.

Clapping his hands together in anticipation, Stiles hurried towards the exit shouting, "Let's go check into Eichenhouse!" Once out of the room he bobbed his head down to the left and rolled his eyes, adding, "Again" under his breath. Not waiting for the others to catch up, he bolted down the stairs and out the front door, headed straight for Lydia's car. Back in his room, Scott muttered to Isaac as they left, "I'm not the mom though, right?"

Shaking his head quickly and speaking in an overconfident voice Isaac responded, "No! Of course not." He didn't dare look Scott in the eye as he said it, instead turning his face towards the ceiling, where his grin was out of sight.

"Liar" Liam laughed at him from down the hall. Swearing at the younger boy, Isaac darted towards him. Liam only got a moment of laughter before he was forced to flee, racing out of the house towards the safety of Stiles waiting in Lydia's car. Dumbstruck, Scott stood in his hall, mouth hanging open and hands hanging at his sides.

"I am so not the mom." He spoke to himself, voice squeaking slightly in denial. Shaking his head, he returned his focus to the plan, hurrying after his friends.

It was a tight fit, but they all managed to squash into Lydia's car, and soon Stiles was racing along the dark roads, growing ever closer to Eichenhouse. Voice trembling slightly from the back seat, Isaac spluttered as they lurched around another corner, "I know you're eager to check into the nut house, but do you think you could drive a bit slower?"

"Nope." Stiles said it plainly, eyes focussed on the road, not sparing Isaac any more of his attention.

Rolling his eyes, Scott turned in his seat to face the pair in the back, "We're nearly there, just hang on okay?" Isaac gulped, nodding and resting his head against the back of the seat, doing his best not to throw up. Satisfied, Scott turned back to the front, sparing a glance at Stiles as they bolted along yet another dark stretch. He could see the internal battle Stiles was having. Eichenhouse was the one place on earth that Stiles hated above all others, and now he was willingly going to commit himself, risking his freedom and his wellbeing. All of that fear and hatred he had for the place still couldn't outweigh his love for his friend. Pride welled up inside of him, pushing a tight smile onto Scott's face, "Stiles, I don't know what's gonna happen in here, but we're gonna save her. I promise, no matter what, Lydia gets out."

Stiles wanted to respond, to say thank you, but found that his voice had left him. Instead, he glanced at his friend, tried and failed to smile, and so settled for a grateful nod before turning his gaze back to the road. The familiar dark gates slid into vision, and he hit the brakes firmly, sending everyone else jolting forwards. As though he were in a trance, he turned off the car and got out, walking towards the crackling voice box that hung on the wall next to the gate. He tried to swallow, but his tongue was working against him, refusing to send anything down his hot, dry throat. One steadying breath, and then he was pushing down the call button, waiting for a reply from reception. When the speaker beeped, a woman's voice echoing out of it, Stiles jumped, hand slipping off of the speak button. Scrambling back into position, he pressed it down as firmly as he could. "Yes, uh, hi. We have four self surrenders outside the gates. Three of them think they have magical dog powers, and the fourth believes he was possessed by an evil spirit." Silence filled the air once he had finished, only broken by the steady crackling of the voice box.

Eventually, he heard the woman sigh, "Come on in" and the black gates rattled open. The group stared at him, clearly feeling somewhat insulted.

"Magical dog powers?" Isaac gaped at him, mouth hanging open.

Liam stepped forwards, "They're not magical powers, we're werewolves!"

Pulling a face, Stiles nodded, clapping his hands together "Great! Just say that inside and we'll get in no problem." Scott laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, and the pair began the walk up the slippery steps side by side. Liam and Isaac hurried on behind them, still grumbling about 'dog powers'. All four of them stepped through the door to the reception together, blinking in the bright lights after being smothered in darkness only moments before. Behind the reception desk sat a small dark woman, with shining black hair which was sleeked back into a ponytail. Square glasses perched daintily on her nose, she glanced up at the oncoming group.

Staring sceptically at them she lifted a pile of clipboards onto the desk, each one with a self admission form pinned to it. Eyeing them warily, she spoke in a high pitched, scratchy voice which was totally juxtaposed to her otherwise smooth appearance. "So you're-"

"Possessed by an evil spirit, yeah. I was here before, but it made me break out. I'm back now." Stiles smiled at her and grabbed the pen she warily offered him before he set about filling in his form.

Nodding slowly, she stared at him for a moment before resting her gaze on the other three, "And you are the uh- dog people?"

Scott nodded with a serious expression on his face, "I'm the pack leader, Liam is my beta and Isaac's a stray we picked up. Our eyes glow, wanna see!?" All three of them hurried forwards, eager expressions pinned on their faces. Backing up slightly she shook her head, a nervous laugh jittering out of her.

"No no that's quite alright, just fill these in," with an outstretched hand she slowly slid the boards towards the group, not wanting to get any closer, "and then you can all follow me to the waiting room while one of the orderlies sorts out rooms and clothes for you."

"That's great, thank you!" Stiles smiled creepily at her, before frowning slightly, looking up and muttering, "No, why would I want to do that?" With a poorly concealed horrified look on her face, she spun on her heels, rushing off down a dimly lit corridor, beckoning for them to follow. Stiles turned to face the rest of them, making sure they were ready to head into the building. To his surprise, they were just staring at him, "What?"

"What the hell was that?" Isaac pointed accusingly at him, genuine concern etched onto his face.

Staring at him for a moment, Stiles laughed, "It was sealing the deal. Acting, all part of the big _charade_." He said the final word in a French accent, with a flourish of his hands. When the group remained where they were, staring at him, he groaned, turning and walking away from them. "Oh come _on_ guys, the Nogitsune is gone, when did I ever talk to myself during that nightmare?"

Scott stared after him before shaking himself, "He's right. Come on guys we're being silly. Let's go." He pushed Liam and Isaac in front of him, struggling to shift the deathly chill Stiles' act had thrown down his spine.


	30. The Helper

Outside, the wind blew aggressively, tugging at the ancient walls of Eichenhouse. As it hammered at the doors and ripped past the windows it created a haunting, low whistle that echoed throughout all of the dingy corridors. At one point, a window somewhere in the building shattered, and shouting and scrambling could be heard from somewhere else in the building. Each disconcerting noise always seemed to manage to bounce back into the small square room the group had been forced to wait in. For Isaac and Liam, this was their first venture into the asylum and both of them had fallen pale and silent, stilled by the eeriness of the place. Scott was tense, hands gripped firmly in his lap and back set straight as a rod. His gaze was set on the heavy metal door, and he placed almost all of his focus on listening and sensing what was going on within the building. Across the room from everyone else, Stiles sat alone on an old wooden seat, elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped together. He was covering his mouth, staring at the floor intently. Although he didn't have his usual bounciness about him, he was still shaking violently.

No matter how hard he tried to cover it up, steady his heart beat or ease his breathing, he couldn't conceal how terrified this place made him. He had so many terrible memories, and the whole aura of the building itched at his skin, picking at his brain and sending him back to a dark time when his mind wasn't his own. The fear had a grip on his chest, and he felt as though it were rattling his ribs, desperate for some way to escape, to take full control. It rattled and hammered and shook his ribcage until eventually his whole body succumbed to the shivering. So now he sat on his own, doing his best to keep his cool and focus his attention on the task at hand. Daylight was creeping up on them, slowly finding its way through the few windows and skylights in the building, although it did nothing to comfort the anxious teenagers.

Finally, after half an hour of tense silence, the door swung open to reveal a slightly older woman, who smiled at them reassuringly –although it didn't spread to her eyes. Looking at each of them, her eyes rested on Stiles, "Ah, Mr Stilinski, how nice to see you again." Her voice sat low and cold, not revealing any signs of the affection that her words were claiming.

"Pleasure is all mine," he grimaced, standing up and taking a step towards her, "can we go to our rooms now?"

The orderly looked him up and down, taking in his shaking form and the wild look in his eyes. "Actually, as it is day-time, all patients are required to remain in the day time areas. If you'd-"

"What? No we have to be in our rooms we-" Stiles was raising his voice, panic and confusion making him throw caution to the wind.

Eyebrows furrowed the nurse glared at him, "Stiles, if you won't calm down we'll have to take you to solitary for a rest." The way she said it let him know what it meant. He remembered all too clearly his last experience there, when he had been restrained and drugged against his will.

Gulping, he tried to speak, but no words came out. Stepping up behind him, Isaac put a firm hand on his shoulder, "Stiles, it's fine, we'll go to the courtyard and enjoy the sun. It'll be fine."

Stiles looked back at him in surprise, of the three of them, Isaac was the one he least expected to provide a comforting word, not that he was complaining. Closing his mouth he nodded firmly, remaining silent as the orderly led them all out of the room and down a maze of corridors, out into the bright sunlight of the courtyard. Wind battered them the moment the stepped out, turning what had looked like a warm day into a chilled experience. The four of them shuffled forwards, turning in unison when they heard the metal gate clatter shut behind them. "Well," sighed Liam, "here we are, patients in a mental institution. What's first, ping pong?" He laughed quietly at his own joke, but quickly tailed off when he realised no one else had joined in. "Sorry. So what are we gonna do?"

Scott looked about, clearly listening in to all the different conversations going on around them. He had to shout slightly to be heard over the wind, and the other three all craned their necks to hear him, "I think we should try and stay together, or at least close to each other. Start talking to people, see if you can find anything out about-"

"STILES?" A shout cut across Scott's instructions, and they all turned to see a pudgy boy standing a few meters away from them. His face was a mixture of confusion and excitement, toothy grin crinkling the rest of his face. Recognition suddenly burst across his face and he waved enthusiastically, "It IS you!"

"Oh no." Stiles groaned, rubbing his face nervously before he shuffled over to the boy. "Hi- uh- Oliver? How you doin?" He did his best attempt at a friendly smile.

Grinning, the boy looked eagerly between Stiles, Isaac, Scott and Liam, "Oh, not too bad. They kept me in solitary for _ages_ after what happened the last time you were here. Hey do you remember-"

Quickly putting a stop to his story, Stiles gently pushed Oliver away from the others, hand resting on his shoulder, "Let's not talk about that okay? So um, I'm gonna spend some time with these guys but I'll talk to you later." Patting the boy on the shoulder he gave him a quick thumbs up before turning on his heels and rushing back towards the group. They were just about to move on when Oliver called after him.

"Hey Stiles?"

Voice straining to remain calm, Stiles turned back to him, "Yes?"

"I forgot to tell you something. It's important."

"Oh, well why didn't you tell me?" Stiles paced back towards him, ready to hear the 'important' news.

"You didn't ask."

Groaning he did his best not to shout at Oliver. "Ok, well I'm asking, what's the important news?"

A smile lit up Oliver's face and he jiggled on the spot in excitement. "There's this girl who keeps screaming your name. I haven't seen her, but I hear her _all_ the time."

"What?! Really? Where is she?" Stiles grabbed Oliver by the shoulders, shaking him slightly in his rush. The boy looked shocked for a moment before speaking up once more:

"Oh, well I'm not really sure, but by the sounds of things, she's – umm- _downstairs_." He whispered the last word, covering up his hand as he pointed at the floor.

Having heard the pair's hushed conversation, the three werewolves rushed forwards, crowding behind Stiles to listen closely. Scott smiled kindly at the boy, "That's really great Oliver. Do you think you could take us to where you think she is? It would be a great help."

"I really want to help, yeah I can do that." He nodded, sucking on his lower lip before turning around and walking away at a fast pace. The group watched him waddle away for a moment, stared at each other, and then rushed after him. Isaac and Liam lagged behind, shrugging at each other in mutual confusion before jogging to catch up with the rest of them. Oliver lead them down a repetitive series of lefts and rights, making them stop every few steps to make sure no one was watching them. It was slow going, and everyone was growing increasingly frustrated. The only think that kept any of them from having an outburst was the regular warning looks that Scott shot them, telling them to remain silent. Finally, they reached a stairwell that wound upwards out of sight, and spun down into the darkness below them. "This is where it comes from. But we're not allowed down there."

Scott smiled at him, familiar with the staircase that led to the top security level of Eichenhouse from their visit to Dr Valack. "That's great Oliver, this was a really big help. Can you do one more thing for us and not tell anyone you took us here. If someone asks, send them the opposite direction, okay?" The pudgy boy nodded, standing and staring at them for an awkward moment before shuffling around and hurrying off back in the direction they had come.

"What a weird kid." Isaac spoke in astonishment, staring after the odd boy.

"Trust me," Stiles fixed him with a knowing stare, "he's normal compared to most people here. Plus, he's a good kid, he helped out a lot when- uh- the last time I was here." An awkward tension hung in the air for a moment before Stiles shook his head, clapping his hands and beginning to descend the steps. When no one followed he turned back to stare at them, "Guys c'mon, she's got to be down here. What are you waiting for?"

Frowning sadly, Scott took one step down to get closer to his friend, "Stiles, don't you remember? I can't go down there, and neither can Liam or Isaac. You're the only one who can get past the mountain ash."

A look of horror flooded Stiles' face, and he began to shake even more violently, panic causing his voice to speed up, adopting a higher tone than usual. "What? No- I can't- Scott I can't do this on my own! How am I gonna- what do I do?" He stared wild eyed at his friend, desperate for some sort of solution.

Scott thought for a moment, mouthing silently before managing, "First of all, breathe." Stiles realised that he had been hyperventilating, and took a deep, steadying breath. "Second of all, just- go down there and see what's going on, don't do anything too risky or stupid. If you can, find out where she is, and then come back and tell us. From there we can figure something out. Okay?"

Still unhappy with the arrangements, Stiles nodded grimly before turning to face the dark staircase. Calling out behind him as he made his way down, he started barking orders, "You guys make sure no one comes down here. Isaac, Liam if someone tries, make a distraction and leave Scott to guard the stairs okay?" They shouted a disgruntled response, but he was already so far down that he couldn't really hear what they had said. The metal staircase clattered with each step he took, sending a shivering echo around the walls every time he moved. Reaching into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the key card that he had stolen from the orderly's waistband when she had pushed him through the courtyard door. As the security gate came into sight he slowed to a stop on the stairs, crouching down to see if there was anyone guarding the position. The hall was empty so far as he could see, so he cautiously slunk down the last few steps until he stood facing the door. Not waiting around to get caught, he shoved the key card into the panel, tapping the machine impatiently when it didn't turn green. After a few moments, a red light flickered on followed by a low beep to indicate that the card had been rejected. "What? No-" He muttered to himself, pulling out the card and wiping it on his shirt before shoving it back into the machine, "C'mon, work!" He hissed at the machine, hitting it firmly now in the hope that it would encourage the thing to work. Again it rejected the card. "Shit!" Fumbling with the card in his tremoring hands he did his best to buff out a scratch on the ID chip using his grey cotton shirt. "C'mon please." He begged it to work this time, and gently slid the card into the slot. For a few agonising seconds it buzzed quietly before finally turning green with a happy ' _bing_ '. The door was unlocked, and he pulled it open just as he heard muffled voices from upstairs. He must be running out of time. Stumbling down the long corridor, he took a few seconds to stare into each dark cell.

In one sat a wendigo, teeth snapping hopefully in his direction. Disturbed, he moved on to the next, spotting a woman in a straight jacket with no mouth. Gulping, he remembered the mute, and hurried on to the next cell. He pressed his face to the little dingy window, squinting to try and see through the dirty glass. Reaching up, he used his sleeve to clear a spot to look through. There were two beds in the room, one was empty and the other was covered in a pile of old bed sheets. When the pile moved he jumped, smacking his head on the metal rim of the window. The noise drew the attention of the inhabitant, and it rolled over before sliding out of bed. Head bent low it slumped towards the door to see who was there. Transfixed, Stiles gazed in trepidation and the creature slowly advancing towards him. Once it was as close to the door as possible, it looked up. His heart vanished, as though someone had reached into his chest and removed it, leaving a numb empty space where it should be. "Ly-Lydia?" His voice was so quiet he knew she wouldn't be able to hear him. Still, he searched her hooded eyes for some sign of recognition. She stared at him for a moment, taking in his features as a single tear ran down her sallow cheek. Biting her lip, she turned away, shuffling back towards the bed as he stared in anguish.

Not stopping to think, he fumbled with the key card and pushed it into the door lock as fast as he could. The same reassuring beep cried out, and he yanked the heavy door open, hurrying inside. "Lydia?" He was more confident now, his voice returning to him. Lydia whipped around to stare at him, tears running down her cheeks.

"Get out." Her voice was strained and almost a whisper, he could hear how exhausted she was.

Moving forwards slightly, he reached towards her, "Lyds-"

"DONT CALL ME THAT! I SAID GET OUT!" She yelled at him, shoving him in the chest and sending him flying backwards with a blast of hot prickly energy. His back slammed into the edge of the metal bed, and he groaned as he stood up.

"Lydia I know you're upset but if you just come with me-" he stopped when he caught sight of her expression. Pure murder was written across her features, and for a moment he thought she might attack him.

"You're not him. Stiles is dead. You're not him."

"What?" Now he was whispering, feeling as though someone had punched him in the throat, not quite sure how to process what she was saying. He didn't get a chance to question her any further however, as a very angry orderly had appeared at the door. Lydia took one glance at him before sitting back down on her bed, disinterested. Stiles however backed right up, hands held in front of him as some sort of defence. "Look I know I shouldn't be here, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" As he spoke the orderly rushed towards him, tazer gripped firmly in his hand. Stiles yelped as the man pressed it into his neck, sending him crumpling to the ground with his mind surrounded by a dark haze.


	31. The Revelation

**A/N: Hey all! Sorry this took a little while longer, I was taking a break during the festive period, and when I wrote this chapter I just wasn't happy with it, so I left it and came back to it. I really hope that you are all still enjoying the story, and please feel free to leave a review, they make my day! Stay Classy, Icepoppy**

"How long do you think he's going to be?" Isaac drawled, leaning lazily against the wall opposite the stairs. Although he acted aloof, both Liam and Scott could smell the anxiety on him. Shifting uncomfortably where he stood, Scott did his best to comfort his pack,

"I told him to come back as soon as he found her, so it should be any minute now." Even as he said the words, he knew they didn't hold much merit. Stiles almost never obeyed instructions, especially when they came from Scott. Throw Lydia into the mix and he was just about as likely to follow orders as he was to walk on water. Stretching his neck to look over his shoulder, he peered down the dimly lit staircase. "He'd better hurry it up though." Liam was biting his nails, pacing back and forth across the hall. Each time he came to a wall, he swivelled on his heel before stomping towards the next one. Soon the only sound filling the space was the 'pat pat pat' of his feet on the floor and the cracking crunching noise each nail made as he gnawed on it. All three of them were listening intently for any sign of trouble. Scott mainly focussed on downstairs, while the other two kept a look out on the corridors around them. Scratching his head in an attempt to appear casual, Scott walked to the top of the stairs."Maybe I should just go down and make sure he's okay?"

Coming to an abrupt stop, Liam stared at him with his voice growing faster and faster with every word he spoke. "Scott, no. You can't go down there, not after how weak it made you last time, think about it- don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember!" Scott snapped, turning to face a rather shocked looking Liam as he spoke, "But Stiles is like my brother, I can't lose him again, I just can't." Although clearly trying to remain angry and motivated, Scott's face fell, shoulders sagging as he bowed his head. He felt as though all of the strength had been drained from him, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep fighting. He knew one thing for certain, if he lost Stiles, that would be the end, he wouldn't be able to carry on. He just couldn't keep losing people. Alison. Ethan and Aiden. Derek. The Sherriff. Lydia. He just couldn't lose Stiles too. The thought frightened him so much that it sent twinges of energy down his lolling limbs. Suddenly he couldn't resist the urge to move, to act. Anything that would prevent this plan from failing. Jumping into action he started pacing a similar pattern to Liam. They were just about to collide when Liam slowed to a halt, eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration.

Isaac was the first to notice the change in behavior, "What is it, Liam?" His voice breaking the tense silence caught the Alpha's attention, and Scott looked first at Isaac, and then at the youngest of the three.

Breathing in deeply, Liam opened his eyes, "I think... I think someone's coming." His focused expression changed to one of frozen shock as he looked over Scott's shoulder. "Scratch that, I know someone's coming, and there's more than one of them." The three of them all stared for a moment as a group of burly security guards stomped towards them, an older orderly at the head of the group.

"Just what are you three doing here? This is a restricted area!" The little old man had a surprisingly deep voice, the ghosts of cigarettes pulling at it as it left his throat.

Thinking fast, Isaac looked around and plastered an innocent, confused look on his gaunt face. "Is it? I'm sorry we got lost trying to find the telephone."

Scrutinising him, the orderly twitched his nose in suspicion, "This is a long long way from the phones, it's almost impressive just how lost you've got." His bloodshot eyes bulged in their sockets, as though desperate to get a closer look at the three. His gaze shifted from Isaac to Scott, who stood in the middle of the staircase, blocking any access. "And why are you guarding that so intently, boy? Is one of your nasty little friends down there?"

Scott jumped, stammering to answer, "What? No!" He knew it wasn't convincing, glancing nervously first at Liam -who had hit his face with his palm- and then to the orderly and his guards. The old man twitched his nose again, rubbing at the few straggly white hairs that clung onto his chin.

After a moment of silence, he waved a commanding hand, "Take them to solitary." The trio stepped closer together as the guards advanced on them, ready to defend themselves in order to buy Stiles as much time as possible. As the first one –a large and intimidating woman- reached the group, Scott moved in to attack her. She grabbed his shoulder and a wave of bristling hot electricity erupted down his spine and up into his skull. Stunned, he collapsed to the floor. Eyes hazy, he watched in confusion as Liam and Isaac were met with the same fate.

Groggily he tried to understand, "What? How did- huh?"

The twitchy man laughed, hobbling over to stand above Scott, "Once we started getting an unusually high amount of shall we say, unusual visitors, we had to make the decision to employ some- gifted –workers. Anita is very clever with her electricity, wouldn't you agree?" He exposed worn out teeth as he parted his flakey lips in a grin. Groaning, Scott turned to watch as a couple of the guards hurried down the staircase towards an oblivious Stiles. Most of them had remained behind, setting about picking up Scott, Liam and Isaac. As he was dragged to his feet he heard the distant shouts of Stiles quickly followed by a yelp of pain. Unable to speak, Scott simply groaned his dismay as he was carried away.

"WHERE IS STILES!" Scott yelled at the wiry orderly that sat outside of the cell he was currently in. Frustration licked at his bones, making his whole body ache and shake in vain. His anger was growing so strong that he could feel himself starting to lose control. Each breath he took sent a shudder down his skin, his nails itched to grow into claws, his hands desperate to pull the bars confining him out of the way. Liam was in the cell next to him, and although he was out of sight, he must have picked up on Scott's rapidly deteriorating mood. He spoke in a quiet voice, so only the werewolf would hear him.

"Scott, it's going to be okay, just calm down. Breathe."

The Alpha stood still for a moment, eyes still fixed hungrily on the orderly standing guard. But then, he seemed to find himself again. Screwing his eyes shut he breathed deeply, relaxing inch by inch as he felt each muscle rid itself of any supernatural urges. It was like this great heat inside of him was slowly retreating, moving away from the surface and back down into the depths of his chest. Once he was sure he felt calm enough, Scott opened his eyes. He slumped down onto the floor, sitting cross legged behind the gate to the cell as he fixed the orderly with a much more kindly gaze. "Would you just tell me where he is, please?" Scott implored, using his best puppy dog expression on the young man outside his cell. The orderly stared at him for a moment, expression calculating and perhaps a little pitiful. They held eye contact for what Scott counted to be eight seconds before the man looked away, shaking his head as he spoke:

"I can't tell you. I'm sorry." Crossing his arms, the man faced away from Scott, refusing to look him in the eye any more.

Sighing, Scott rubbed his temples as he tried to figure out a plan. Stiles always made the plans, it was just how they worked, Scott was no good at plans and Stiles was an expert. Every escapade and successful adventure they had enjoyed had been down to one of Stiles' plans. Then again, this whole ordeal was the result of one of his best friend's plans, so perhaps he wasn't as brilliant at it as Scott once thought. Smiling to himself, he thought that maybe he _would_ be able to concoct an idea, so long as he adopted the same logical and energetic enthusiasm that Stiles usually applied to plan making. _Everything depends on this guard here,_ he thought, _I just need to convince him to help me somehow. Okay let's look at him- he's pretty weedy, probably gets bossed around by all the other workers. I bet no one ever talks to him like an actual person in this place._ Breathing in deeply he caught a strong scent of remorse wafting off of the man in front of him. Quirking an eyebrow, Scott formed an idea. Shifting slightly closer to him he could see what name was printed on his name tag. 'DR. RONAN KELLY'. Speaking gently, Scott sat with his back against the dusty bars. "I know you can't, but you want to, right Ronan?"

At hearing his own name, Ronan jumped slightly. Cautiously turning to face Scott once more, he scrutinised the teenager and put his hands on his hips, "And what makes you think that?"

Head leaning against the bars, Scott turned slightly so that he could look at him, "I know you aren't a bad guy, Ronan. In fact, I bet you're the one holding this place together, it's just no one else notices right? And I think you know that I'm not trying to cause any trouble here. I'm just trying to help my friend." His voice wavered slightly towards the end of his statement. There was no acting required, Scott was on the verge of a breakdown not knowing the fate of Stiles. They had been through so much together, friends since childhood. Guilt was clawing at him from all angles knowing how loyal a friend Stiles had always been to him, even when he hadn't even noticed. Scott knew he had been cruel to Stiles about Donovan, about his dad, and he would do absolutely anything and everything to make it up to him. He would be the most loyal friend that had ever existed, and if that meant tearing apart Eichenhouse to get him back, then so be it. Listening carefully, he could tell that his two other friends were in the cells either side of him, but he could not catch a trace of Stiles anywhere. Ronan sucked on his teeth, scratching the back of his neck before crossing his arms. He remained still for a very long time.

All of a sudden he bolted into action, moving with such spontaneous movement that it made Scott jump. Climbing to his feet, Scott stood with his hands wrapped around the bars, watching Ronan's movements intently. The man darted to one end of the corridor, then the other, and finally buzzed back towards Scott. "I am gonna get in so much trouble for this." Scott tried to apologise, but the man just held up his hand, "Save it. The guards took Stiles to the restricted floor. They're going to keep him there. As for you three, they're making us forcefully discharge you by noon, as they can't find anything wrong with your mental stability. They reckon you're just a bunch of teenagers playing a prank or a dare."

Scott gaped at the man, mouthing silently before croaking, "There's nothing wrong with Stiles either!" Even as he said it, he knew that he wasn't sure if he was right. Stiles had been through a lot, had done a lot of things that would drive any normal person to insanity. But Stiles wasn't normal, he was Stiles! "There is _nothing_ wrong with him."

"Not according to them. Look kid, the best you can do for your friend is leave and let him get better." Ronan ended the conversation with a quick nod, turning to face the end of the corridor as the same jumpy old man from before appeared around the corner.

"KELLY!" He yelled, hopping and hobbling towards them. "What the hell are you doing?" Ronan gulped, glancing guiltily at Scott before turning back to stare in trepidation at the old man. "Stop standing around like an idiot and get to work, these three are meant to be discharged immediately!" He came to a halt right in front of Dr Kelly, standing on his tiptoes so that his bulbous nose was nearly pressing against the pointed one of the younger man.

Breathing very lightly, Ronan gulped, "Yes Sir."

Giving the same toothy grin of approval as before, the man rounded on Scott pressing his face right up to the bars of his cell. Scott stepped back, no longer trying to hide his disgust. "And as for you. If any of you three ever try and set foot in here again without genuine reason, I will not hesitate to call the police. Stupid pranks and dares are just a waste of our time."

Wick burning dangerously short, Scott growled, "You know there's nothing wrong with Stiles, he's not _gifted-_ " he spat the word at the man, "or insane, so why are you keeping him here?"

The man recoiled in shock before glaring over his shoulder at Dr Kelly, who in turn shot Scott an exasperated look. The boy didn't care, all he was interested in was answers. After spitting and muttering in anger for a few moments, the older man slinked closer to the bars of Scott's cage, wrapping long bony fingers around two of the metal struts."Stiles might not be a werewolf, that's true. But he certainly _is_ gifted. Don't tell me you haven't noticed? He's the key to all of this, he's like a catalyst for the supernatural, it gravitates around him. Haven't you ever wondered why?"

Taken aback, Scott stared blankly at the man. He had never thought about it like that, he had just always assumed that it was Beacon Hills that drew things to them, but looking back on it, everything could be connected back to his best friend. Standing in awe, he listed off all the little incidents that Stiles had seemed to initiate. The night he got bitten, it was Stiles who had taken him out into the woods, Stiles who had been dragged away from the scene only moments before the attack happened. Scott wondered that if the Sherriff hadn't taken him away, maybe it would have been Stiles who was bitten. He always seemed to know who the villain was, before everybody else: Peter, Matt, even himself. He had figured out Scott was a werewolf, he had figured out Lydia's powers and he had taught both of them how to control it. Malia had been inexplicably drawn to him, she had absolutely no reason to want to talk to him after they changed her back, in fact she had hated them both. So why did she suddenly switch to being obsessed with him. When the Nogitsune took over, it could have chosen any one of them, but for some reason, it chose Stiles. The canima, the oni, the dread doctors, the chimeras, even Theo- especially Theo- every single one had some weird interest or draw towards him.

Scott found himself questioning just how well he knew his best friend, was there something Stiles had been hiding from him? He didn't have much time to dwell on it, as in his daze he hadn't noticed the door buzz open to let two guards clamber in and drag him out. Still rather shocked and confused, he allowed himself to be pulled off the premises, closely followed by Isaac and Liam.

As they were chucked out of the large black gates, Isaac and Liam shuffled closer to Scott. Isaac was the first to speak, "What the hell was that, do you know something we don't?"

Liam had a worried look on his face, glancing between Scott and Eichenhouse, "We shouldn't have left him there, he's terrified of that place!"

"Scott? What's going on?" Isaac pressed him.

Shaking his head Scott blinked in bemusement, "I have no idea."


	32. The Reunion

Pinpricks of bright red light started to dance and swirl across his heavy eyelids. In his mind he felt himself drifting from numb unconsciousness to a twitchy, uncomfortable state of awareness. His limbs still buzzed with the shock from the long absent taser and his mid continued to whirl, trying desperately to figure out what on earth Lydia had meant when she said, "You're not him." Eyes itching, he moved his hand to scratch them wearily. However, he found that he was restricted from moving more than a few inches in any direction. Panic set in, all of a sudden he was trapped back with the dread doctors, their horrible mechanical ticks and whirrs echoing throughout his ears. He didn't dare open his eyes, terrified of seeing those cold metal masks looming over him once more. He pulled and pulled against his restraints, still refusing to open his eyes, hoping perhaps that the whole ordeal was just one of his old nightmares come back to haunt him in his sleep- although the burning pain in his neck where the taser had zapped him suggested otherwise. Whatever was wrapped around his wrists and his ankles was itching at his skin, rough edges rubbing it raw as he struggled against them. He could feel his frustration growing, starting with the raw itching in his wrists before blooming into a tight chested pain that eventually erupted out of his chest in an angry scream. The sound filled the room, vibrating in the air around him until it eventually dissipated, settling down amongst the dust and dirt that lay on the concrete floor.

"Why are you crying?"

The voice that spoke sent a nauseating mixture of relief and horror to his heart. It was Lydia, but she sounded so distant, cut off, just like she had when he first entered her cell. Doing his best to steady his breath and stop his sobs, he replied, "Because I'm scared."

"What do you have to be afraid of?" She sounded positively venomous, as though she resented him for his ability to feel afraid, like she felt he didn't deserve the privilege.

Gulping, he screwed his eyes shut even tighter. "I'm scared to open my eyes."

Laughing bitterly, she scorned, "And why is that?"

"I'm terrified that if I open my eyes I'm going to be back with the dread doctors, or with the Nogitsune, and you're not going to be there at all." Despite his best efforts, vocalising his fears ripped another sob out of his throat, although he caught control before any more could leak out.

As he listened, he heard Lydia open her mouth to speak at least three times before any sounds came out. The space around them felt alive with some hopeful energy, squeezing at his chest until his heart was beating twice as fast as it usually would. Finally, after a little sniff, Lydia spoke. "I nearly believed you that time. I don't know how you know these things, but I wish you'd stop pretending to be him. I really do." She no longer sounded angry, just broken and miserable, voice trickling out into scratchy silence as she ended her statement.

Hearing her sound so defeated caused the ache in his bones to grow, as though there were something inside every fibre of his being, twisting everything in the wrong direction, growing and shrinking things until not one part of him fit with the next. Heartbreak would have been an understatement. He was feeling physical pain to hear her so tragically defeated. This was enough to give him the bravery to open his eyes. Breathing heavily, he screwed them tight shut before throwing them open, blinking at the sudden shock of light. When his vision adjusted, he saw that he was staring at a water-stained concrete ceiling. Although slightly disturbing, it was nowhere near as bad as seeing three metallic monsters peering down at you from above. Relief flooded his system, doing little to patch his broken seams, but still providing some small comfort.

His neck ached terribly, but he managed to force his head to turn so that he could see where Lydia was sitting. She looked terrible, although he imagined that he probably didn't fare much better right now. Emaciated and bruised, slumped on the edge of her bed, she regarded him with a distasteful expression. He could see nothing left of the love that had once burned there, so hot it scared him. No. She was cold, and detached, and so _sad_. His mind stumbled through unpleasant thoughts of all the things they must have done to her to reduce her to such a state. His miserable musings were interrupted when she spoke again. "I've got to say, you're the most committed one so far. Usually they give up when I figure it out."

Bottom lip quivering and eyes squinting, he wavered out a weak response, "I- I don't understand what your talking about. Lydia who's they?" He stared at her earnestly, ignoring the extra tear that ran down the itchy salt tracks already dried to his cheek. How he wished he could scratch them, his hand was twitching at the thought.

Lydia picked up on this. "You even have his mannerisms down. He used to-" her voice clogged up, the lump of sorrow in her throat banning her from further words.

He hated being the source of her misery like this. "Lydia, it _is_ me. I don't understand why you think it isn't."

"OH! I'm sorry! Excuse me for not believing it's the real Stiles fucking Stilinski when you've only been torturing me with the vision of his death for weeks, tricking me with stupid illusions only to tear my hope away, again and again and again. I'm SO sorry that you've broken me so badly, I'm finding it hard to believe yet another one of your goddamn lies!" For a second, she was Lydia again. Fierce and angry and so full of passion that her ghostly pale visage gained colour for the first time in weeks. Pants racked her frail frame. "And I guess locking you in the same room as me is just another step further into my torture. I wish they'd just kill me too."

He was speaking before he could stop himself. "No. Don't you dare." He pulled against his restraints again, filled with a new, stronger need to be beside her, to comfort her. Eyebrow quirked in shock, she contemplated him. Refusing to lose her attention, he carried on. "Lydia, you are far too important, too precious, too- too loved to die. I don't care if you hate me forever, if you never speak to me again please just promise me that you'll never say that again. Never say you want to die, because we both know it's not true. Nothings worth that." He was crying again. It seemed it was all he could do, given the circumstances.

"He was."

"What?"

"He was. He was worth dying for." Having started barely a whisper, her voice was growing louder with every word. "I would have died a thousand times over if it meant he was alive right now."

A weird combination of misery and affection bombarded his mind, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words to respond. Finally, he whispered, "You really think that?"

Confusion lingered on her features, and she slid off of the bed to sit on the floor, minimally closer to him. "Yeah." A sad smile floated on her lips for a second before it disappeared, running away with the tears that were now sliding down her face.

"Lydia, I don't know how to convince you. But it's me. It's Stiles."

"Please don't lie." Her voice was stern, but it held none of the venom from before.

"Just tell me how to prove it to you."

She shuffled ever so slowly closer to him, eyes locked onto his. "When was the first time you told me you loved me?"

"Third Grade." The answer was out of his mouth before he even had to think about it. Seeing she was about to correct him he stammered on, "Don't you remember? I-I saw you in the playground and thought you were the most beautiful thing I ever saw. So I made you a daisy chain. It took me the whole of recess to figure out how, so I didn't get to give it to you till lunch time. I gave it to you and said 'You're really pretty and I think I love you'. Then you laughed and called me silly, but you wore that daisy chain for the rest of the week."

The tiniest breath of a laugh fell from her lips as she stared at him in wonder. "I- I forgot about that. How did you-"

"And the first time you said you loved me? How could I forget? I had just been in a car crash, which totalled me Jeep, and you literally dragged me from the freaking wreckage, and I thought I was dying. So I told you the most important thing in the world, that I loved you. And then, the amazing thing is, you said it back. After all that time you told me you loved me, and I knew you really meant it. It was enough to keep me breathing till the ambulance got there."

"I-"

"And you wrote me a letter. A beautiful, long letter all about how much you loved me. And it was so kind and wonderful and perfect, and you told me about Alison and all the things she said to you about love. And that you felt that for me. You said- you said you would always believe me, Lydia. You said you would always believe in me. You-"

"Stop." She was a few inches from his face, eyes swimming with tears.

"No, not until-"

"I believe you." She laughed and cried as she said it, shaking hand reaching out to stroke his cheek. "You're alive. You're alive!"

"Oh thank God." He closed his eyes in relief when she pressed her forehead against his, smile threatening to split his face in two. "Do you think you could maybe untie me so that I can give you a hug."

Nodding fervently and wiping her face on her sleeves, she rushed towards his bindings, fumbling with the first for a good five minutes before she made any progress. The shock of learning Stiles was alive had set her whole body trembling and she couldn't stop. Finally she popped the first one open and he had a hand free to claw at the strap around his neck. Progress was a lot faster after that, and soon enough he was shakily climbing to his feet, Lydia supporting him the best she could in her fragile state. The pair of them stood, holding each other upright, clutching at their clothes, their skin, anything to make sure that the other wouldn't disappear again. After a long time just taking each other in, Stiles placed a gentle hand behind Lydia's head, and pulled her in for a hug. "We're gonna be okay."

"How touching."

They whipped around to see a doctor standing in the doorway. Stiles had no idea who he was, but Lydia recognised him in an instant. Surprising no one but Stiles, she stepped between him and the doctor, shielding him from harm. "Don't you hurt him." The malice in her voice was something Stiles had never heard before, and he was surprised that it didn't scare him.

Stiles eyed the taser in the man's hand, saw the unsympathetic look in his eyes and decided it would be for the best just to go along with whatever he wanted. Gently guiding Lydia back so that she was level with him once more, Stiles looked down at her encouragingly, "Hey, Lyds, it'll be fine. We'll be fine." Turning to the man he spoke with much harsher words, "What do you want?"

Raising his eyebrows, the man took him in, "I can see why she likes you. You're just as feisty as she is. So sorry to have to be the one to break up the party."

Head tilted to the side in confusion, Stiles stepped back, moving Lydia with him. "What do you mean?"

Two other guards stepped into the room, one grabbing Stiles and one grabbing Lydia. Stiles was dragged to the door before he could even try to resist. Lydia pleaded with them, "No, please. Don't take him away from me. Don't hurt him, please!"

As though to spite her, the man holding Stiles twisted the boy's arm painfully behind his back, forcing a gasp of pain from Stiles. Lydia began to struggle, itching to send them all flying with one great big scream. Glaring at the doctor, she demanded an explanation. Patting Stiles on the shoulder, he smiled soullessly at them both. "Well, since we've had no luck getting through to you with _images_ of young Stiles here, it seems just perfect to put his sudden appearance to good use. If you cooperate and tell me how to control your powers, then I won't hurt him. If you don't, well-" he made his point by whacking Stiles in the stomach with his baton. Stiles doubled over in pain, wheezing and wincing as the guard pulled on his arm painfully, forcing him upright.

Stiles looked at Lydia through watering eyes, "Lyds, what's he talking about?"

Staring at the doctor with all the cruelty she could muster, she spat, "The idiot thinks that banshees have the power to control death."

Before she could insult him further, the doctor raised a scolding finger, "Ah ah ah. One more word like that and it'll be his face rather than his stomach. We wouldn't want that now would we?"

This was enough to silence her voice, but not to calm her furious glare. Silence followed them as they were lead out into the hall, and away from their cell. The atmosphere the guards were creating promised that they weren't in for a pleasant experience.

 **A/N: I can do nothing but apologise for how long this has taken me to update, and thank everyone who's stuck around and waited this long to keep reading my story! I wont go into detailed excuses, but I lost a lot of people in quick succession, and it put me out of the game for quite a while. But I'm back! And so are our favourite angsty teens. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and feel free to leave suggestions in the comments, or just let me know what you think! I love y'all.**

 **Stay Classy,**

 **Icepopppy**


	33. The End

For Stiles, the next few minutes seemed to pass in a blur of shuffling feet and fluorescent lights. He could hear Lydia stumbling along behind him, and the comfort of her presence was the only reason he hadn't collapsed with fear or exhaustion. He wasn't sure when he had started being so afraid of things, when his reckless bravado had shrunk into a quiet memory. But it had. And he was terrified. He wished he could be more like Lydia, angry and brave and fighting for them both, but that fear gripped at him, with one hand over his mouth and the other pinning his arms to his sides. He was helpless against it. Silently he let himself be dragged along the dingy corridor.

Somewhere in the blur they had entered a painfully bright room. Eyes narrowed against the harsh light, Stiles turned to look for Lydia. A small bubble of relief grew in his chest when he saw her a few feet away, flashing him a weak smile. That bubble was popped the moment he was forced down into a chair, and strapped in. Lydia was positioned in an identical chair directly opposite him, struggling against her bonds as soon as they were tied. Stiles didn't bother trying. "Lydia it's ok."

"No it's not, Stiles!" Her anger from before was quickly turning to panic, and he watched helplessly as she got more and more freaked out.

"Lydia stop." He sighed when she didn't listen. "Lydia- LYDIA." He didn't shout, but he spoke with enough force to catch her attention. "Lyds, there's no point. Let's just get this over with and we can both go home."

"Your boyfriend's smarter than he looks, _Lyds_!" The doctor clapped Stiles painfully on the back, sneering cruelly as he used her precious nickname.

Sometimes Stiles couldn't stop his sarcastic comments before they had escaped his mouth. "Smarter than you, that's for sure." He winced. He had no idea why he had said such a stupid thing. From experience, he knew it was a sure-fire way to get hit.

The doctor tightened his grip on Stiles' shoulder, sending bolts of pain up into his neck. "Is that so? Well then, do tell me Stiles- how is it that you are strapped in there, and I'm standing up here?"

"Cause you're too dumb to figure out how banshees work without me." Damnit. Stiles bit his tongue to stop any further snarky comments. To his surprise, the doctor didn't react with violence, in fact, he let go of Stiles' shoulder and brushed it off with a delicate hand. The boy eyed the doctor, trying to figure out what had caused this sudden shift in demeanour. Learning nothing from the Doctor's expression, Stiles glanced over at Lydia. She looked scared, and she shook her head ever so slightly.

Striding over to a table of nasty looking tools, the doctor cleared his throat, "Of course, your right Stiles. But if there is one thing I cannot tolerate, it's bad manners. Lydia knows this all too well. So, Mr Stilinski, I'd like you to apologise."

Eyes flicking over to Lydia again, Stiles saw her nod urgently. Swallowing his pride, he gave in. "Uh, I'm sorry."

"I don't believe you."

"What? I said I'm sorry!"

"Now that definitely didn't sound sincere." The doctor advanced towards Stiles, holding an unpleasantly large needle.

Stiles pulled away from him, moving as far as his restraints would let him. "Ok, I'm sorry," his voice was quiet with fear, "really, I am. I'm sorry. Don't!" He called out too late as the needle was stuck into his arm. He didn't wince, he just squirmed at the sensation. Voice shaking, he looked between the needle and the doctor. "What is that?"

Lydia spoke up, "It's a hallucinogenic."

"Not this time, banshee."

"What?" Stiles and Lydia spoke together.

"No. This time it's something a little more… potent. I couldn't risk damaging you Lydia, but Stiles on the other hand, is rather unextraordinary, and therefore, dispensable."

"Hey, I was a werewolf once! And I got possessed by an evil spirit. It was very evil!"

The doctor paused, thumb resting on the plunger of the needle. "Yes, and why was it that the Nogitsune decided to inhabit you, Stiles? Why not the budding alpha or the trained hunter? Why did it pick you? What's so special about Stiles Stilinski?"

Stumped, Stiles grasped for words, "I- um- I don't-"

"Because he's so smart," Lydia chipped in again, addressing the doctor but keeping eye contact with Stiles the whole time, "because- because everyone trusts him because he's so loyal to his friends. And, he's surprisingly strong and he always has a plan. Always."

Despite the situation, Stiles smiled.

"While all those things might be true, that's not why."

Shocked, Stiles focused entirely on the doctor. "What? Are you saying you know why- why it was me?"

Grinning, the man slid the needle back out of Stiles' arm. "To be honest, I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out yourself by now. Have you not realised you are always somehow in the epicentre of every supernatural occurrence in Beacon Hills? Why do you think Theo was so interested in you? Every pack needs someone like you."

"But I'm just a human."

"Not quite."

A small gasp fell from Lydia's lips, "You're an emissary."

Mouth hanging open, Stiles looked aghast. "Lydia, I think I would know if I was a druid."

"Evidently not. She's right. There's a spark in you and it draws the supernatural to you. Why do you think your girlfriend is a banshee, your ex is a werecoyote, your best friend is a werewolf, surely you didn't put all that down to coincidence."

Silence filled the room as Stiles absorbed all this new information. He felt a little spark of pride although he wasn't sure why. He supposed it was good to feel special, like maybe he _could_ help his friends after all. Suddenly what Lydia had said before popped back into his head. _He always has a plan._ The hazy fog in his mind lifted and he began to feel like gears of his brain grinding back into action. Staring intently at Lydia he thought as hard as he could.

'Can you still hear my thoughts?'

Eyes widening, she nodded. The connection wasn't two way, but it was definitely enough. It had to be.

'Ok, here's the plan."

Scott and the remainder of the pack were all crushed into Stiles' Jeep, parked outside of the looming gates of Eichenhouse. They may not have a plan, but they had to do something. Scott was sat in the driver's seat with Isaac, Malia, Liam and Kira crammed into the back seat. He turned to smile apologetically at them before turning his gaze to the woman in the passenger seat. "Are you sure you're ready? It's not very pleasant in there."

Natalie Martin wore a confident mask, although her chemosignals revealed how scared she really was. However, her voice was steady when she replied. "All the more reason to go in and get them out. Let's go." Not waiting for a response she climbed elegantly out of the Jeep, reminding them all painfully of Lydia. The rest of them all scrambled out and hurried to catch up with Natalie's brisk pace.

Kira was trotting in between Natalie and Scott, looking between the two. "So remind me again how exactly this is going to work?"

"When Stiles' dad died, Natalie became his legal guardian, and obviously she's Lydia's mom. Stiles isn't of age yet, he's only seventeen so he's still in Natalie's custody. So she has the right to check him out of any care he may be committed to, even if he committed himself."

"And Lydia? Isn't she eighteen?" Isaac had his armed crossed still sceptical of the whole plan.

Natalie nodded, "Yes, but technically she never graduated high school, so she's still under my parental custody. Legally they have to let them both out if I say so." She pressed a manicured nail into the call button on the gates, and waited patiently. Moments later they were walking up the menacing steps towards the hellhole of a mental care facility.

Stiles was dazed from the scream Lydia had just let lose in the room, but he was aware enough to watch as she wriggled her unusually thin wrists out of the restraints on her chair. He let out a little whoop of joy when she finally got free, too excited to feel worried about the dead man lying on the floor. She had done it, and he couldn't feel prouder. Finally she seemed to have complete control over her abilities, and they had just saved both of their lives. She scurried over to him, hands working fast and freeing him from his bonds once more. First things first, he scrambled to his feet and pulled her into the tightest hug he could without hurting her. Holding her at arms length, he smiled, "Did I ever tell you I love you?"

She laughed, for the first time in far too long, "You maybe mentioned it once or twice."

The moment was interrupted by the two guards from before bursting through the door, "What happened- oh shit!" The pair stared in horror at the man lying dead on the ground, blood still trickling from his ears. Then, their eyes drifted over to Stiles and Lydia, who were still clinging to each other defensively.

Gulping down his fear, Stiles stepped forwards, "We're leaving. Now."

The first guard stared somewhere off in the distance, and the second shifted his gaze between the dead man and Lydia. Voice shaking he nodded, "I think that's a good idea." He stepped aside, gently pulling his friend with him. Completely shocked, Stiles and Lydia exchanged a glance before rushing out the door and down the maze of hallways to the exit.

"I can't believe it! I- We- We're free!" Lydia did a happy skip as she said it.

"All thanks to you."

"And you. I would have died in here if you hadn't come to get me."

"Well, I waited ten years for you to fall in love with me, I'm not going to let anything get in the way of it now that you have. Especially not some idiot like Theo."

Smiling, she grabbed his hand, "Let's go home."

Natalie was just arguing with the receptionist when Stiles and Lydia appeared hand in hand around one of the corners. The moment Lydia saw her mom, she dropped Stiles' hand and bolted towards her, stumbling in her weak state and practically falling into a tight embrace with her. "Mom! Oh mom, I thought I'd never see you again. Mom, mom I love you so much."

Shocked but impossibly relieved, Natalie froze for a second before gripping her daughter back with just as much force. "I love you too. I'm so sorry. How- I don't- how on earth did you get out?" They were both sobbing.

"Stiles. Stiles saved me."

Natalie looked up, staring at the boy over Lydia's shoulder. Stiles stood awkwardly where Lydia had left him, giving a slight nod. He was going to say something, but before he could, Scott had barrelled into him, wrapping him up in a hug so tight Stiles was sure he felt a few ribs groan. Laughing, Stiles clapped him on the back and hugged him back. "I missed you too, bro. Thanks for coming to get me."

"It's beginning to look like I didn't need to!" Scott's voice was light with joy as he looked between Stiles and Lydia. There was more he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words, so he settled for just smiling happily at them all.

A loud cough from the receptionist broke the moment, and they all turned to face her. "I'd like to remind you that Stiles and Lydia are still patients of Eichenhouse and this is _entirely_ against the rules. Stiles, Lydia, if you would please return to your rooms at once. Otherwise I'll have to-" the phone rang, cutting her off rudely. She held up a stern finger, pausing their conversation as she picked up the receiver.

The muffled sounds of conversation echoed through, and Stiles looked at Scott, hoping he could hear what was going on. However, it was Isaac who broke the tension with a sudden laugh. "That's brilliant. I gotta say I didn't see that coming."

"What? Didn't see what coming. Isaac!" Stiles waved a hand spastically, leaning on Scott for support.

With another chuckle, he answered, "They're letting you go. Something about your delinquency being cured. To be honest it sounds like they're just shit scared of you both."

Lydia looked at Stiles with a weary amazement, no energy left to do anything but smile.

The receptionist hung up and with a very grumpy look on her face, returned their belongings and sent them on their way.

They were all together. They were free. And they had so much ahead of them.


End file.
